


The Fellowship of the Book

by Doewrites



Series: The Fellowship's Trilogy [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, ヴァ二タスの手記 - 望月淳 | Vanitas no Carte | The Case Study of Vanitas - Mochizuki Jun (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Tragedy, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doewrites/pseuds/Doewrites
Summary: Vanitas has had the Book in his possession for only a few years but he's never bothered to actually learn about it and its history. A fact he comes to regret when he finds himself on the run from both the present and the past, Noé at his side.A Lord of the Rings/Vanitas no Carte crossover





	1. The Birthday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
I've had this crossover in the back of my mind for a while so I thought I might as well write it. Tags will be updated as the story progresses.  
Normally, this story is comprehensible without actually knowing the plot of Lord of the Rings. If it isn't, please let me know and I'll fix it.

_“This story starts as most stories do. With the actions of the past affecting those of the present and future. So listen closely, mon chaton, to the story of Vanitas of the Blue Moon.”_  
  
Noé snaps out of the daydream with a start, Teacher’s words from long ago ringing in his ears and realises he’s two inches away from cutting a budding rose. He puts his secateurs down and passes his hand over his face; he’s been out of it all day and he can’t afford to mess up now. He’s spent so long on this rose shrub, reviving and caring for it after years of neglect; this isn’t the time to ruin his efforts. He vaguely wonders why he’s remembering those exact words when there’s a whistle up above and he almost knocks his head on the windowsill as he looks up.  
  
Vanitas, his employer, is leaning out of the window, his asymmetrical hair swinging in the soft breeze.  
  
“What are you doing Noé?” He asks, brows furrowed slightly, “Are you overworking yourself again? I don’t want you falling asleep in my garden for the third time this year.” He only adds the last part because he knows reminding of this will get him out faster. He doesn’t really mind Noé’s presence that much compared to other people in Montmartre but he has a reputation to uphold and he doesn’t want to be held responsible for Noé’s irresponsibility towards his own health.  
  
“Oh, I must have let time slip away from me again.”  
  
“Go home, Noé. Your Teacher needs you in tip-top condition tomorrow. Please tell me you didn’t forget his birthday.” He gives Noé one of his usual disgruntled faces.  
  
“No! I didn’t!” He protests and Vanitas nods before disappearing into his home of Bad End-_No,_ he corrects himself, _it’s Bag End._ It’s what most people in Montmartre (see in the whole of Averoigne) call it and it’s a bad habit he tries to avoid relapsing into. It’s not that Vanitas lives in a bad area. In fact, he lives in the nicest part of Montmartre; the problem is what happened with his family.  
  
He banishes the thought from his mind; thinking about him will only make him feel depressed and he still has to meet Vanitas at the door. Sometimes, he feels like Vanitas can read his thoughts but he knows that’s impossible. Vanitas is human after all. He’s just intuitive. And sure enough he notices:  
  
“What’s gotten you bothered now?”  
  
“I’m tired.” Is all he offers as explanation before proceeding to tell Vanitas what he did in the garden. He listens but Noé’s certain he doesn’t know the difference between most of the plants. That’s a good thing, he supposes, otherwise he’d be out of a job. When he’s finished, he asks, “How are the studies?” Vanitas blinks, surprised, and leans back slightly as if looking at him from another angle.  
  
“…Fine,” He answers curtly, “Being a doctor isn’t all it’s made out to be. And I still don’t know if that’s the path I want to take…Why are you smiling?”  
  
“Nothing,” He answers. Vanitas always has to be bitter about something and it’s funny when he actually means it. Noé thinks a tad of harmless unpredictability in his life would do him wonders, “Goodnight Vanitas.”  
  
“…Goodnight Noé.” Like every day, Vanitas hesitates to answer him and like every day, they nod at each other and Noé goes out of the gate. He makes his way towards his home, admiring the setting sun as he goes.  
  
His and Teacher’s home is smaller than most people would expect which always surprises Noé until he remembers that Teacher’s family are the ones ruling the De Sade Regency. A lot of people don’t understand why someone who’d been so powerful once would want to move to such a quiet place as Montmartre but Teacher is a mystery to most. He keeps most people on their toes with harmless jokes; the latest being making the food at the neighbour’s house float somehow during the feast they were holding for Riche’s birthday. It’s obvious that everyone is anxious yet eagerly anticipating tomorrow’s celebrations. Noé can’t blame them; he too feels butterflies in his stomach at the idea. Teacher hasn’t told him what he’s planned except that it’s going to be important. Vanitas knows some things but he refuses to tell Noé for reasons he won’t divulge (Noé is certain it’s because he doesn’t know everything. Noé is right).  
  
He has dinner with Teacher who smiles mysteriously at him from the other side of the table. He tells him goodnight and practically crashes onto his bed. Sleep takes him almost instantly and he sinks into a pleasant dream.  
  


***

Vanitas doesn’t sleep that night and when morning comes, dark bags have settled under his eyes and have made friends with the ones that were previously there. If the insomnia continues like this, they might be able to start a family there. A knock sounds at the door at the crack of dawn and he opens it to see Noé’s Teacher standing there. He doesn’t really like the vampire but then again, he doesn’t really like a lot of people.

“Good morning Vanitas.” He smiles.

“Mhm. ’Morning and happy birthday I guess,” He says, “You’re here for the Book.”

“Thank you and yes, you are correct.” He ducks down to enter Bag End; he is rather tall and Vanitas’ family has always been of average height.

The leather-bound Book on which are embedded strangely shaped pieces of metal rests on the mantle as it always does and he blows off the dust on its surface before passing it to him. Whenever he does this, he always gets the impression that the Book becomes bigger in Teacher’s hands. He refuses the urge to demand what he’s going to do with it even though it itches away at him; he already knows he won’t be getting any answers, “Perfect. Can you do me a favour?” Vanitas makes a face, “It’s a rather simple one.”

And that’s how Vanitas finds himself waiting on the outskirts of Montmartre sitting in the dew-covered grass, trying to read in the low luminosity as the sun slowly comes up makes its way into the sky. As Montmartre wakes up and starts going about its day, he has to answer to the same question so often (“Why Monsieur Vanitas what are you doing here?”) that he considers setting up a sign but decides not to. He isn’t exactly sure who this specific piece of land belongs to but he doesn’t want to cause a fuss anyway. He spends most of the morning there and he’s starting to think Teacher set him up to get him out of the way when he spots a horse-driven cart riding towards him.

He slams his book shut and dusts himself off before sticking out his hand to show the cart’s driver he’s there. It slows down next to him and the driver peers out at him from underneath her large, grey hat.

“Chloé, how good to see you.” He says and means it. Chloé the Grey may look young but she’s probably one of the smartest people he knows, something a lot of the citizens in Montmartre don’t seem to appreciate since a lot of her ideas lead to what they deem ‘trouble’. Vanitas understands where they’re coming from and his common sense tells him to stay away but how can one not find one of the rare witches in the world of France fascinating?

He hefts himself up next to her and she gives him a small grin as she starts the cart up again. He examines the contents of the cart. It’s filled with all sorts of musical instruments, some of which he’s never seen before and what seems to be fireworks in all shapes, sizes and colours. That’s strange, Chloé doesn’t specialise in fire or making things explode. He takes one of the fireworks. It’s a midnight black with a streak of crimson red through the middle and it has the head of a snarling wolf.

“Careful,” She says, “These are volatile though I tried to stabilize them with some of my own magic.” Chloé uses music as a way to express her magic; Vanitas supposes these fireworks are going to make some melodies when they explode. He puts it back aside.

“So you’re the entertainment?” She nods, “You’re late.”

“You’ll see that at my age, time is but a concept invented by mortals and since it is but fiction, I cannot be late.” He raises an eyebrow and they fall in a comfortable silence. He doesn’t ask her where she’s been and she doesn’t ask him how he’s doing. That’s why he likes her; she doesn’t try to pry into his head and figure him out like Noé does. Not that the vampire means any harm; he’s just overly curious. And Vanitas doesn’t enjoy that.

“Mademoiselle Chloé! Mademoiselle Chloé!” A few children gather behind the cart and signal for others to come forwards. They’re a mix of vampires, dhampirs and humans, all living and playing together in the closest thing children could get to harmony. The region of Averoigne isn’t very large (in fact, it can barely be qualified as a region) and its existence is unknown to the majority of people in France meaning the normal discrimination experienced between dhampirs, humans and vampires is non-existent. They jump up and down, shouting and he has to remind himself it’s out of excitement not fear.

Chloé tugs her hat down lower as if hiding but he sees the smile she’s making. One of the simpler fireworks with a dark blue design sets off, sending off sparks of the same colour as it twirls around the children and playing a merry tune. It’s a wonder she didn’t accidentally set off the other fireworks but he guesses that’s the miracle of magic.

Chloé drives them to Bag End and he jumps off before she stops the cart. Noé stands up from behind a bush of some sort of purple flower with thorns. Maybe he should start learning what’s actually in his garden. Noé’s hands are dirty and badly scratched but his eyes are wide with awe upon spotting Chloé.

“Mademoiselle D’Apcher!” He cries, ever so polite and the brightness of his smile almost hurts Vanitas. He doesn’t even know why he’s using Chloé’s fake name she uses when trying to hide her witch status (she is considered a troublemaker almost everywhere in France after all) but knowing Noé, he wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t aware that she was at least three thousand years old. She smiles and greets him with a hug before making her way to his house, fully aware that Teacher is still inside. Vanitas vaguely wonders what he’s been doing all morning; the party isn’t happening there. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Noé cheerfully saying: “Good morning Vanitas!” Chloé turns around and raises an eyebrow, a silent way of asking him _“You’re still going by that name?”_ He returns her gaze coolly and she goes into the house.

“ ’Morning Noé. You might want to get that treated.” He points at his hands.

“Oh, I was just careless and those aren’t poisonous.” Vanitas vaguely wonders if that means some of his plants _are_ poisonous; he _really_ should ask Noé.

“Well you could still get an infection. Come on, I’m certain I have some salve inside. And then you’ll put on some gloves.” He orders.

“Uh, well, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He continues hurriedly upon seeing Vanitas’ face (a mixture of utter confusion, astonishment and slight concern), “Teacher forbid anyone from coming inside, he even put a sign outside because he was tired of everyone disturbing him. And that includes me.” He points at the sign and Vanitas frowns upon realising he’d missed such an obvious thing.

“Well it’s still _my_ house. It’s not his name written on the letterbox. You can wait outside.” His hand is on the front door when he thinks to turn around and say: “And don’t do anything whilst I’m gone; otherwise you’ll worsen it. And if that happens, you won’t be able to dance tonight; and I know a few people who want to dance with you.” The not-being-able-to-dance part is mostly a lie and judging from Noé’s face, he can sense it.

“If I don’t do anything, will you save a dance for me tonight?” He asks and Vanitas stares at him, eyes wide. He laughs, says “Sure, Noé” and enters the house. He’s certain that by tonight, Noé will have forgotten all about that deal and Vanitas will be left to his own devices.

Almost instantly upon entering, he hears Teacher yell “Whoever you are, get out!” from the kitchen. Vanitas sticks his head in and glares.

“I’m only getting my kit, calm down. Then I’ll stay out. Try not to destroy my house with your plans.” He goes to his room, organized and orderly save for the rumpled bedsheets he didn’t straighten this morning, and grabs his bag at the bottom of his bed. He checks its contents and is glad to see the necessary items inside.

He sighs with relief when he sees Noé has sat down and not done anything else. He kneels opposite of him and takes out a gourd of water, a bottle of salve, two wads of cotton and some bandages. He’s suddenly very grateful for the long gloves he constantly wears as he grabs Noé’s hands and cleans them with a water-soaked wad before applying the salve (he admonishes Noé for forgetting his gardening gloves when he cringes at the stinging slave) and finally wraps the bandages. Noé thanks him profusely which quickly starts tiring Vanitas who interrupts him and tells him to go put on his gloves.

“Oh, I think I forgot them at my house,” He looks around him, “They’re not here anyway. I’ll go get them.”

“Oh, don’t. There’s no point,” He sighs, “I’m giving you the day off. This garden’s perfect already (Noé seems to disagree with that) and it’s your Teacher’s birthday.”

“Oh, thank you,” He’s so overly polite that one day, Vanitas will get actual backlash from it, “Do you want to come with me? Seeing as how you’re locked out of your house.” Vanitas shakes his head.

“I’ve got to study if I want to become a doctor.” He excuses himself and goes to read under the willow tree so he’s safe from the sun. Noé watches him go, heart sinking. They both know that Vanitas doesn’t need this constant studying he says he does and that he doesn’t really care about becoming a doctor. Vanitas doesn’t intend to get close with anyone so Noé knows he shouldn’t take it personally but the rejection burns. He turns away.

***

Teacher’s party properly starts when the sun goes down. Up until then, it’s mostly been an exchange of pleasantries (something Vanitas doesn’t really appreciate) and then Chloé lights all the torches and lamps. The band (consisting mostly of Chloé’s instruments playing themselves through magic) starts playing a jaunty tune and a part of the guests (actually the whole of Montmartre gathered in the field always used for celebrations) break off into pairs. Others go to the buffet and others continue talking though about more interesting topics (which in Montmartre equals to gossip about who’s dating who and why).

Vanitas does none of those and sticks to the edge of the lights, where he can barely be seen. He watches, tracking the different people’s movements. Chloé is sitting near a buffet table where she can easily reach for food and continue telling an adventure to a group of awed children. Teacher is also doing the same but with an older-looking group. Noé’s dancing with Riche who looks like she’s about to pass out; he really hopes she doesn’t. Riche has been nurturing a severe crush on Noé since childhood as far as he knows and she still doesn’t seem to be over it; Noé is completely oblivious about it which surprises no-one not even Riche.

“Watch it quack, you’re staring.” Dante warns him at his shoulder and Vanitas’ fingers twitch towards an invisible weapon at his waist.

“How nice to see you baldy.” He answers, deciding not to shift his gaze out of pure stubbornness. They watch silently for a few moments before they both have to look away as the dancers begin a complicated series of twirls.

“What are the odds,” Dante starts, “that Noé knows exactly what he’s doing and that he’s just hiding behind an oblivious façade?”

“Highly improbable.” Vanitas has debunked that theory a long time ago.

“You’re just saying that because that would mean he’d be a better actor than you are.” Vanitas scowls and turns to glare at him.

“Has your hairline been receding?” He asks then snickers when Dante’s hand flies to his hair, “What were you saying about not being a good actor?”

“Alright, you quack. And here I was, coming over to give you some information.”

“Wait, really?” Dante nods and Vanitas takes a leaf out of Noé’s book by apologising more than necessary. Unlike Noé, it isn’t sincere and Dante obviously knows it.

“Alright, stop that. Now, listen close.” He leans in and whispers something in Vanitas’ ear. His eyes widen and he’s about to ask him if he’s serious but judging from his face, he is.

“Excuse me,” Noé says and they both pull apart with a jump, annoyed that they missed him coming up to them, “Am I interrupting something?” They scowl harder and at each other. Their relationship is complicated to say the least and there was a time where most of Montmartre thought they were together just because Dante was the only person Vanitas _willingly_ talked to. That rumour has died down mostly due to the fact that Dante and Riche live towards the edge of Averoigne but they avoid talking too much in public in fear of others getting the wrong idea.

“No, we were just done chatting.” Vanitas lies between his teeth, head whirling with questions from what Dante has told him.

“Will you dance with me then?” Noé asks him and Vanitas stares at him before remembering what he’d said earlier.

“I suppose I have no choice…Since we made a deal,” He has never seen Dante look this gleeful and horrified at the same time. Nor has he seen the entirety of Montmartre look like that as Noé merrily takes him by the arm. Fortunately, Chloé distracts everyone by starting her musical firework show, creating a temporary replacement for the band. Noé starts leading them slowly and tentatively but quickly gets into the proper rhythm, “Is there any reason as to why you’re staring at my feet Noé?” He blushes slightly and looks up.

“I didn’t think you could dance.”

“I never said I couldn’t; I just choose not to.” He answers as Noé twirls him around expertly.

“You’re right,” Noé muses, “What did Dante tell you that’s got you so troubled?” This. This is why Vanitas doesn’t associate with Noé. He’ll be all naïve one moment then so perceptive that it’s almost like he can read minds. He purses his lips.

“Don’t worry about it Noé.” Noé doesn’t look convinced and opens his mouth to press the issue when he gets cut off when there’s a low hissing and the wolf-headed firework flies into the air, howling. Vanitas doesn’t know if Chloé is looking out for him, has an excellent sense of timing or if it was just an accident (seeing how she’s fallen backwards from her stool and lost her hat, it seems to be the last one) but whatever it is, it distracts Noé. The firework explodes, turning into a large wolf made out of fiery sparks. It bounds across the starlit sky then it snarls and descends towards them. A few people scream and instinctively, Noé pushes Vanitas to the ground before throwing himself on him to protect him. Chloé (now up again) holds up her hand which is glowing with a grey light and the wolf howls one last time before going back up into the sky where it explodes into a hundred smaller wolves that run together, yipping at each other before fading away. Everyone claps and cheers except for Vanitas who pushes Noé off of him who has stars in his eyes (he can’t blame him, it was impressive).

“Alright, since that’s over, time for the boring part,” There are laughs as Teacher climbs up on one of the table set under the large oak tree decorated in differently coloured lanterns, “I am deeply honoured and pleased to welcome you my dear Dubois and Lacroix, Beauregards and Toussaints, Richemonts, Dumonts, Duponts, Lefèvres, Séverins and Gosses!”

“Gosselins!” Yells someone in the crowd. Teacher waves his hand dismissively and continues:

“Today is my fifth hundredth birthday!” The crowd cheers though it’s mostly the humans. They’re used to the fact that vampires live much longer than them and that Teacher doesn’t seem to be a day over thirty. The vampires frown and are jealous, they don’t stay that young-looking for so long normally; they’d look around thirty-five by then, “Now, not all of that time has been spent here and even the double of what I have spent would have not nearly been enough! (More cheers) However, you haven’t been the most welcoming people or the nicest; you know who you are. (The crowd hesitates) But you’re all wonderful deep down. Very deep down. Very, very deep down. (Chloé smiles at that then starts frowning when he puts his hands behind his back.) But I have been putting things on hold for far too long and it is time for me to say-This is the End. I am going now,” He finds Noé and looks him straight in the eye, “Goodbye.” Under everyone’s eyes, he disappears as if he had never been there. They all gasp.

All colour drains from Vanitas’ face and he grips his right arm as it throbs painfully.

***

Teacher bursts into uproarious laughter as he slips into Bag End. He reappears into view and closes Vanitas’ Book. He’s still chuckling when he enters the living room and sees Chloé contemplating the blazing fire. He doesn’t question how she got there before him.

“Ah, wasn’t that fun?” He stretches and grins.

“Yes. Very,” She says, drumming her fingers against her legs, “So now you plan to leave?”

“Yep!” He passes his hand over his mantle where two letters for Vanitas and Noé wait; two strange, young boys he almost thinks of as sons. He grabs the rucksack he’d been preparing all day and takes up his favourite walking stick; there’s a long road ahead and he intends to take his time.

“Are you giving all your possessions to Noé then? And the Book to Vanitas?”

“Of course! The Book was always Vanitas’ he just wasn’t old enough to legally own it.”

“Then why isn’t it on the mantelpiece?”

“Oh,” His hand goes to the back of his belt where the Book sits in a simple case specially made for it, carefully hidden under his cloak. He’s used it so many times for all sorts of things that it’s now a part of him, “I…must have forgotten it was there. How strange…”

“Yes, how strange for someone as meticulous as you.” She gets up, a feeling of cold seeping into her bones as she hears her friend mutter:

“After all, why shouldn’t I keep it? I know how to use it; what use does that boy have of it?” His tone became harsher and lower, “I know its value, it’s mine. It’s mine, _it’s mine_…My…_precious_…”

“Precious? You know well who called it that and it wasn’t you.” He whirls around and she has to take a step backwards. His lower body seems to be dissolving into a mass of thorns and his face has twisted: his eyes two lamps in his face and his mouth a cruel thing full of teeth in the form of a smile.

“You’re just trying to steal from me, aren’t you Chloé?” He asks in a distorted voice as he looms over her.

“Monsieur De Sade! Do not take me for a child or a cheap magician! I am not trying to rob you,” Her voice lowers and becomes thunderous. The room temperature drops by several degrees and the fire dies out with a hiss. An invisible gust of wind blows through the room and Teacher shrinks. The walls creak as if about to fall in on themselves, “I’m here to help you.” She says and the atmosphere lights up again. He makes a whimper and clutches the wall behind him, “I think you should leave the Book here.” She suggests softly, placing a hand on his.

“Yes, you’re right. I should.” He says hurriedly and unclasps the latch holding the Book in its case. He contemplates its cover then, almost as if it physically pains him, lets go of it with trembling hands. It falls to the ground with no sound but to him, it’s the same as if it made a deafening crash.

He straightens as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulder and lets out a sigh of relief. He hefts the rucksack onto his back and opens the door. He smiles as he breathes in the fresh night air.

“This is the End for me here,” He says as he steps outside, Chloé following him closely, “But the Beginning of another story. Thank you Chloé for helping me. This is goodbye, isn’t it?”

“Until the next time we meet.” She smiles and they embrace.

“Please take care of them whilst I’m gone.”

“Of course. Now, get going. There’s a long road ahead.” They separate and she clutches her dark grey shawl tighter around her as she watches him walk away, a lump in her throat.

She returns to the fireplace and around five minutes later, Vanitas arrives, a slightly manic look on his face. He stops upon seeing the Book on the floor.

“So, he’s gone?” He asks her and she nods.

“He’s left a letter for you.” Vanitas grabs it and reads it, frown deepening as his eyes scan it. Dante was right, Teacher _is_ retiring.

“That’s it? Nothing else? Just a letter saying he’s saying goodbye and that he hopes we’ll meet again?” She continues staring into the flames, “What-what happened at the party? You know everything; tell me. What is this Book?” She sighs.

“Make me a drink?” He does so and gives her her cup of tea when it’s done. She takes a sip despite the fact that it’s still steaming and he sits on the ground next to her after having opened a window to let in some air, “It’s a long story. You do know about Vanitas of the Blue Moon and the War?” He frowns at her question, not understanding what she’s getting at but nods. She’s probably the only person he’s not difficult with when it comes to answering a question.

“Good. But what you’re taught in the history books or at school isn’t the whole story. Vanitas of the Blue Moon was power-hungry so she decided to create a way to obtain more. After a few failed attempts, she created a Book of immense power and malevolence. A Book that could bring all the people of France to their knees. A Book that contains a piece of her soul and allowed her to live on despite the destruction of her physical form.” It’s not hard for him to put the pieces together.

“This Book.”

“Yes. I thought it was just a book with some magic imbued in it; Teacher only used it for harmless jokes after all. But it makes the owner dependent on it and I just witnessed that right now.” Vanitas looks at the Book for a long moment then tosses it into the fireplace. It doesn’t burn despite the flames eagerly licking at it. With fire tongs, Chloé takes it back out and throws it in his lap. His first instinct is to jump up and push it away but he stops upon realising it’s cool, “If only that would work. No, to destroy this, it would need to be thrown in the volcano from which it was forged; the Blue Doom.”

“Why hasn’t it tried to possess me? Should I start worrying about every decision I take?” His face darkens at that.

“It’s left you alone until then since you’d never tried to use it or learn more about it. But now that you know, it will try to tempt you,” She puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes before getting up and starting to gather all of her belongings. She leans close to him, face serious and sombre, “Hide it, keep it safe. No-one must know about its existence. When you have it on you, resist it.” There’s a rustle of leaves from the open window and they both turn their heads towards it almost instantly. Chloé motions at him to get back and ever so slowly, creeps towards it, her staff in hand. She leans out of the window and pokes what Vanitas knows is Noé’s prized rosebush (it’s probably the only plant he knows). There’s a vague sound of pain, Chloé leans more forwards and she pulls up-

“Noé?” Vanitas asks, incredulous. Through what is probably more magic than actual strength, Chloé is lifting his gardener up by the hair, “What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” He exclaims rapidly which only makes him more suspicious. He continues talking in the same hurried manner though it seems to be mostly to Chloé, “Vanitas wasn’t looking alright when Teacher disappeared so I was worried about him but he just told me to go home so I did but Teacher wasn’t there and I panicked and I thought I might come here but I didn’t want to intrude so I just decided to wait and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop I’m so sorry!” Chloé and Vanitas blink, they’re almost certain Noé didn’t breathe during that whole tirade. She lets go of him and says:

“Get inside,” He does as she says and as soon as he’s inside, she slams her hand on the table, making him jump, “How much did you hear?”

“About how the Book could end the world?”

“So you know enough. Very well then. You, Noé, will be his (she points at Vanitas) protector.”

“Excuse _me?!”_ They both exclaim at the same time.

“You two balance each other out perfectly and keep each other in check. You’ll need each other.”

“How can you tell?” Noé asks, his boundless curiosity taking over.

“I’m a witch. After three thousand years, you become perceptive,” She answers dryly before continuing, her voice grave, “I need to go the Parade, where my superior is. She will know what to do. She has to know about this and if the enemy-the _other_ Vanitas-knows. In the meantime, you two, stay together. You’ll meet me in Paris the 29th of September in the Hotel Chouchou. I should be back by then. Stay low and off the roads. Try not to die.”

“Why can’t you just take it?” Vanitas holds out the Book and Chloé feels her mouth go dry as her eyes are transfixed by it. The temptation is sweet, very sweet and some of her fingers twitch towards it. She bites her lip and when she tastes blood, stops and breathes in deeply.

“No. The Book between my hands is far too dangerous. The ones with the most power are the ones who are the most prone to being corrupted. I would turn into a witch bent on destruction, malignant and cruel. Vampires, even ones as strong as Noé would get their true names stolen over time. That is why you should carry it Vanitas; you are human and so less susceptible to its power,” She finally manages to tear her gaze away from it and puts on her hat, “I must get going. Be careful. Both of you.” The door slams behind her with an air of finality.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!  
Side note: I am aware that Teacher is slightly out of character. Since we currently know nothing about him and his motivations, he ended up more mischievous and harmless than he actually is portrayed in canon.  
And other side note: France in this is the world's name, not a country.


	2. Run From Averoigne

_“Now, mon chaton, Vanitas of the Blue Moon was born a vampire and despite not being from a big vampire family like you, she still had her own power. Now hers wasn’t seeing people’s memories like you, it was changing true names. Do you remember what they are?... Almost correct, you’re learning, well done. Now, by changing true names, Vanitas essentially changed the entire nature of vampires. Now, that may sound silly or like it doesn’t do much but it is very, very dangerous. These vampires become curse bearers and if you ever encounter one, chaton, I only have one word of advice for you: Run.”_  


***

  
“Noé! Noé!” He mumbles something as Vanitas pokes him in the ribs with-is that a stick? Now, he’s fully awake and jolts up to find out it’s actually a walking stick and that Vanitas is on the other side of the room.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not becoming your hug-pillow again whilst trying to wake you up Noé,” He says but he’s smirking slightly. Clearly, he’s enjoying this, “I was nice, I made you breakfast. (He nods in the direction of the desk where a silver tray lies.) We’re leaving in two hours.” He leaves the room and Noé starts on the food. Since discovering the true identity of the Book, they’ve started living together in Bag End. To minimise the rumours (because there would always be some), Noé had said that without Teacher, he felt very alone and Vanitas had said that he’d accepted because Noé was a danger unto himself and needed to be watched over; Montmartre had bought both. Noé likes Bag End a lot, he finds it cosy and Vanitas has given him the room next to his so that they’re in shouting distance. He’s also discovered that Vanitas can cook though he seldom eats and his tastes are…bizarre to say the least; thankfully, breakfast is fine.

Chloé had said to meet her in Paris on the 29th of September. It is currently the 21st and Vanitas has calculated it should take them six days to get there but he’s decided they should take seven in case they run into trouble and so they can go at a slower rate; they don’t want to tire out at the wrong moment. As soon as breakfast is finished, he cleans the dishes and goes to pack his bag. They aren’t meant to pack much that’s personal, food is more important so his bag is rather light until he adds cheese, dry meat, bread and gourds of water in both of their bags (Vanitas having already packed his, mostly with medical supplies). He secures the blanket rolls on top of the bags.

“Vanitas?” He calls and he pops his head out of his room.

“What is it? Is there a problem? Are the bags too small?”

“Well, yours is. Where are you going to put your-I mean the Book?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you (Noé is certain he didn’t) but I got inspired by your Teacher and created my own belt with case. That way, it’ll be on me and hidden by my cloak.”

“Won’t it be more dangerous if you keep it on you?”

“I’m willing to take a few risks.” He says and the conversation ends there.

As soon as the clock strikes ten, they’re out of the door and Vanitas locks it. Noé frowns at his rosebush, heart clenching at the idea of leaving it, and they head down the road. Vanitas is right, he realises, with his oversized blue cloak, the Book is invisible.

“Do you remember the plan?” Vanitas asks when they reach the first intersection and he nods, “See you in the Lacroix fields then.” It’s very rare for Vanitas to be seen outside of Bag End and when he is, it’s definitely not with Noé. He’s decided that Noé will pass through Montmartre whilst he will go through the outside of town. Noé doesn’t really agree with that since he’s meant to protect him but he’s easily swayed by the fact that it’s Montmartre. Montmartre’s safe.

They split and Noé’s heart aches when he sees the market set out on the field where he’d last seen Teacher. He misses him immensely but he understands why he left. He’d read the letter Teacher had left him. In it, Noé learnt that he inherited all of his belongings and that he apologises for not warning him but he’s never liked staying stationary for so long. He reminds Noé that he loves him and then signs it. Noé understands his thirst for adventure, having experienced it before, but he’s never left Averoigne and his voyage with Vanitas terrifies him. But he can’t deny that he’s excited.

His mood falls when a marketgoer asks where he’s going and he has to lie that he’s heading to Dante’s family estate to get some specific seeds; he’s done it before so he knows it’ll be believable. He doesn’t like using deceit and trickery on people even when it’s necessary. The conversation continues for a few moments and he arrives late in the Lacroix fields so Vanitas scolds him. Noé looks one last time at Montmartre with the awful impression that this is the last time he’ll see his home in a long time.

***

Their trip is eventless but pleasant until they reach Dante and Riche’s family lands. The landscape is mostly composed of fields and the occasional house but to Noé, all is marvellous. His incessant enthusiasm, despite having already seen these places, tires Vanitas. At least the temperature is still warm enough for it not to be too cold at night.

They’re crossing a corn field Vanitas is certain belongs to Dante’s cranky grandfather when he looks behind him after Noé fails to answer him several times and sees that he’s gone.

“NOÉ!” He yells angrily but there is no response. He knew he shouldn’t have let that country bumpkin walk behind him! Scowling furiously, he turns around, frantically searching for the bumbling vampire. He has half a mind to abandon Noé but something tells him he wouldn’t let him slip away that easily.

Someone crashes into him from the left and they both stumble to the ground. His hand is on their face, pushing them away, when he realises it’s Riche. Her hair is an absolute mess and some of her clothes are singed at the edges. She rolls off of him, further staining her outfit. Dante surges after her, Noé on his heels.

“Riche!” The dhampir yells at his cousin as Noé pulls her up. Vanitas helps himself up and dusts himself off, “Quack! What are you doing here?”

“I could be asking you the same thing, baldy!”

“I live here!”

“No, you don’t. We’ve still got a while before we get to yours. This is your grandfather’s.” As he does so, there’s a raucous shout in the distance and both dhampirs stiffen like deer in front of hunters.

“Speaking of which, time to run again!” He grabs Riche and instinctively, Noé and Vanitas follow (Vanitas shoots a nasty glare at Noé for getting lost though he only looks confused by it).

“What did you do?” Vanitas throws at Dante.

“I didn’t do anything!” He answers, “She did! (He gestures at Riche who protests.) Grandfather has always strongly disliked vampires and he hates us dhampirs. And Riche has just set a large part of his crops on fire!”

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to!” She cries, “I was cleaning my glasses and the sun hit them in such a way to make a fire!”

“Either way, we’re about to become dead meat!”

“And we’re going to be dragged into this?!” Vanitas half-screeches, “No thank you!”

“Well, what are you two idiots even doing here? Camping?” Dante retorts and is about to say more when he trips. Which would have been funnier had it not been when they’re just about to go down the steep slope marking the end of his grandfather’s property and the beginning of a lush, inviting forest and that Riche is clinging to him. Riche makes a flailing motion and takes hold of Vanitas’ sleeve. All three of them start tumbling down and Noé reaches out for Vanitas. Their fingertips brush and in one quick movement, Noé leans further down and clasps his wrist and _pulls._ Riche’s grip is nothing compared to his strength and Vanitas suddenly finds himself very close to Noé. Too close for his liking.

“Are you alright?” The vampire asks, eyes alight with concern. Vanitas nods and then, remembering Dante’s grandfather is getting closer, they hurry down the slope together to find the cousins in a tangled pile. Noé grabs Riche by the back of her coat and helps her up before doing the same to a grumbling Dante.

Noé starts inquiring about any potential injuries and Vanitas scowls; they’re on one of the main roads. A chill passes down his spine as he watches the road twist and turn into the darkness. The forest doesn’t look so inviting anymore and the looming trees seem to become sneering figures-sneering figures that watch his every move as he shakes from head to toe, suddenly thirteen years old again.

His right arm throbs with pain and reality comes back in view. A low, snake-like whisper resonates in his ears: _“They’re coming. He’s coming.”_ He looks back at the others, Dante is pulling Riche’s hair whilst she kicks him in the shins and Noé’s trying to pull them apart without hurting them; it’s not working very well.

“Get off the road,” He says. No-one hears him but Noé does throw him an anxious look, “Get off the road.” He repeats louder and Noé grabs the dhampirs by their coats, separates them and runs off the road to hide behind a large oak. Vanitas barely has the time to join them that they hear the sound of hooves on the road. The horse whinnies shrilly and slows down at their height. A seeping cold as well as a strange, light blue mist pours from its rider as they take deep, ragged breaths. The group of four instinctively press their backs against the trunk as they hear the rider’s feet clunk against the ground as they step down. The rider sniffs the air and without even being able to see them, Vanitas feels the weight of its gaze. His breath hitches and his hand starts moving ever so slowly towards the back of his cloak. Noé notices and grabs his hand to stop him. The rider shrieks an ear-splitting scream and the heavy atmosphere eases slightly as it backs away but its presence is still there though faint.

Noé lets go of his hand and they slowly crawl away from the road. When they start feeling warm again, they finally find the courage to speak.

“What is going on?” Dante hisses, “You knew that thing was coming, quack. How? What was that thing?”

“It definitely didn’t smell human, vampire or dhampir,” Noé quietly notes, “It smelled…earthy and slightly chemical.”

“Look, baldy, I don’t know what that was. As for the rest, that’s none of your business.” Vanitas answers.

“You two, don’t start!” Riche scolds them, “We need to get out of here.”

“We’re heading to Paris.” Noé says and Vanitas glares at him. Noé glares back.

“Alright, we’ll get you there,” Riche promises and Dante scowls at her. She scowls back then lights up, “The ferry! They can use it!” Dante glowers more then sighs.

“Fine. But if I die, I’m taking you down with me. Follow me, I know this place better than this kid.”

“I’m only one year younger than you.” She quips back and they set off, keeping close to the ground. The dhampirs lead, squabbling uselessly until they hear the rider and its horse scream in the distance, and Noé and Vanitas follow as quietly as possible whilst glaring daggers at each other. Vanitas doesn’t understand why he had to reveal their destination and Noé doesn’t understand why he’s being so cagey; he always gets mad at Noé getting lost, why doesn’t he want a guide?

After an eternity of sneaking through the forest whilst trying to focus on their silent argument, the cousins abruptly stop and they run straight into them. Dante makes a hushing sound and flaps his hand to tell them to hide. The Brandywine River’s ferry lies straight ahead and on the road right in front of it, the rider. Its horse is a deep midnight black but its powerful muscles seem to ripple with a blue sheen and its eyes are just two holes of darkness. Its rider is completely hidden by a long dark blue cloak with chains wrapped around the arms and embroidered with a blue moon on the back. At least there’s no doubting whose side they’re on.

They start shifting to the left and Noé’s nose starts to burn at a new smell. When his eyes start to water, he whispers ‘Stop!’ just in time for a second rider to burst out of the undergrowth and head towards the first one. Everyone looks like their heart just stopped but Noé is too busy trying to identify the smell. It’s a mixture of aromatic herbs, rot and chemicals. But that last aspect isn’t as strong as the first rider. No, the first rider reminds him of how Vanitas smelled when they first met.

The second rider bows his head at the first, revealing some sort of beak-shaped protrusion. A plague doctor’s mask, Noé realises. That’s strange, considering how the plague is meant to have died out hundreds of years ago. Its blue moon symbol is smaller and it has no chains which Noé guesses are meant to show the first one’s power and leadership. With the two riders present in the same area, the mist intensifies, clinging to every surface. With a bit of luck, it might hide them from view.

_“Averoigne. Montmartre,”_ The first rider’s voice hisses in their ears, low and sinister. It seems to be everywhere at once as if the rider is surrounding them, _“Number… 69…”_ All the blood disappears from Vanitas’ face and he looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up when the rider adds another word. Vanitas’ real name.

“Time to get going.” Dante mouths urgently and they start moving again. Noé sticks close to Vanitas. He looks ill, his eyes distant and his movements mechanical. They don’t make it far.

_“There you are.”_ Both horses whinny, followed by others in the distance.

“RUN!” Dante hollers as two more horsemen appear in front of them. Noé grabs Vanitas’ forearm and pulls him to the side. Vanitas doesn’t seem to have recovered from whatever emotional shock he’s experienced. They all know what’s happened to him and his family but it’s obvious he hasn’t told them everything, “Hurry up you two! We’re almost there!”

They’re lagging behind due to Vanitas being a weight and Noé decides to carry him bridal style. Normally, he would shake him and tell him to focus but this is obviously not the time. The fact that Vanitas doesn’t protest speaks millions about his current mental state.

_“Catch the Book-bearer!”_ The first rider screams at the others, _“Bring ‘Big brother’ alive!”_ This jolts Vanitas out of whatever dark thoughts he’s in. _Big brother? Does it mean the Book?_ Noé thinks, _It does have its own consciousness. Or do they mean Vanitas?_ Whatever it is, Noé can’t let them get it.

He dodges the riders carefully though his movement are a bit slowed down by the fact that Vanitas is yelling at him to put him down. Noé ignores him, sees an opening and dashes forwards; the sudden speed calms down Vanitas though he does yell his name upon seeing one of the riders’ clawed hands descending upon them. Noé jumps to the right and Vanitas reaches into his pocket, taking out a small canister which he shakes then throws into the air.

“Careful!” He yells gleefully and closes his eyes. The forest momentarily becomes awash with light and Noé stumbles but quickly regains his footing. The same doesn’t go to the riders who let out the same discordant shriek together. He sprints to Dante and Riche who have untied the ferry and are waving for them to hurry as it starts to float away from the small pier, “Put me down Noé!” Vanitas shouts for the hundredth time directly in his ear and Noé’s patience _snaps._ He throws Vanitas onto the ferry and he knows he shouldn’t because Vanitas is both his employer and the person he’s meant to protect but it makes him feel a tiny bit better. It’s a good way to unwind and let out all the stress.

He jumps onto the ferry after him and the riders have to halt as they reach the end of the pier. The horses whinny in unison and back away before galloping away.

“Where are they going?” Noé asks as they all regain their breath; running with a pack is harder than he thought and carrying Vanitas even more. His body is not going to be thanking him tomorrow.

“Brandywine Bridge, ten miles away from here. The river’s small in width but deep. We’re safe for now.” Dante explains.

“Yes but they now know _our_ faces,” Riche reasons, “What’s going on?”

“It’s…complicated,” Noé answers. He glances at Vanitas, he looks irritated with his mouth set into a firm scowl and his brow furrowed. It’s better than the vacant look he’d been wearing before. Noé tries to catch his eye but doesn’t manage to. He chooses to tell them the truth. By the time he’s finished, they’ve reached the other bank and are getting out.

“Let’s get you to that Hotel as soon as possible then!” Riche declares, hands on her hips.

“Woah, _woah!”_ Dante repeats, “Are you insane? We’ll get killed! And not just by the riders! We’re dhampirs! Out of Averoigne, we’re dead meat!”

“Whilst travelling with a vampire? We’ll be fine!” She answers dismissively, “Now, come on! We need to get going!”


	3. LeSage

_“So Vanitas of the Blue Moon had that terrible power. As you know, chaton, having a power isn’t always a good thing. But no-one is born evil. Nor are they inherently good. Vanitas was curious about her power, just like you are about yours, and she wanted to see what it did. All she’d done was accidentally turn a vampire boy that kept pulling her hair into a snarling ball of fur that obeyed her. She’d turned him back, when his mother screamed, but everyone avoided her now. She continued using it but in secret, hoping it would improve and she’d be able to help others. Hoping her parents would look at her again with something other than fear in their eyes. She really was…an unfortunate child.”_  


***

  
Paris is a lovely town with elaborate buildings and all sorts of people wearing things he’s never seen in Averoigne. His neck starts to hurt as he constantly looks around and under Vanitas’ orders, Riche grabs hold of his sleeve so he doesn’t wander away.

The sun starts to set when they reach Hotel Chouchou. The sign at the door reads that it’s a safe haven for everyone and Riche grins triumphantly at Dante who just glowers. They enter and Noé marvels some more; it’s not just a hotel, it’s also a bar and at this hour, there are a lot of patrons. A brown-haired vampire stands behind the counter, preparing drinks and laughing with some of her customers.

Vanitas walks up to the counter. Normally, he’d put up a cheerful (bordering on manic) mask but he can’t muster up the energy; that encounter with the riders has brought some unpleasant memories and he’s trying to repress them. (He knows he’ll probably spend yet another sleepless night ruminating on them).

“Excuse me?” He asks and she turns towards them with a large smile.

“Hello travellers, my name’s Amelia Ruth and I am the owner of the Hotel Chouchou. How can I help you?”

“Is Chloé the Grey here?” She taps her index finger against her cheek as she thinks.

“No, she isn’t here. In fact, I haven’t seen her in about six months.”

“Ah,” Vanitas already feels like his day has been ruined so this information only makes him want to die a tiny bit more. He resists the urge to slam his head against the counter and instead says, “She must be running late then. Can we have a room for the night?”

“Of course! All four of you?” She asks and he nods, “Who’s reserving?”

“Vincent Nightray,” He lies quickly, “That’s Gilbert, Elliot and Vanessa,” He jerks his chin at Noé, Dante and Riche respectively. She smiles, nods and gives him the room key once he pays for both the room and the meal; they’re all starving.

They sit down at a table and all sigh simultaneously. They remain silent as they wait for their food and conversation only starts when Dante makes a snide comment at Vanitas’ oysters. He’s just glad they have some; there’s finally something alright with this day.

At a moment during their meal, Vanitas looks up and sees in the darkest corner of the room, a hooded figure. His hearts stops and his grip on his knife increases until he realises it’s an actual person. He can’t see their face and they’re wearing dark clothes suited for travel. There’s a sheathed sword at their belt and they’re staring right at their group. Vanitas glares and when Amelia passes, he stops her.

“Who’s that in the corner?” She immediately knows who’s talking about.

“No-one really knows, Monsieur Vincent,” She admits, “He shows up from time to time and keeps to himself. We call him LeSage.” She finishes and goes to tend to her other customers. Minutes after, LeSage gets up and heads up their stairs. Vanitas watches him go.

Once finished with their meal, they decide to head to their room except for Dante who declares he won’t be able to sleep after what has happened. They leave him there and start heading up the staircase when a tired Vanitas’ foot slips on one of the stairs. Ahead, Noé and Riche are too busy discussing Paris to see him fall. A disembodied voice whispers incomprehensibly in his ears and his hand drifts to the Book in its case. Time seems to slow down as he takes it out and it flips open. There’s a ‘whoosh’ of pure power only he seems to hear and he lands, his fall cushioned by something invisible. He looks around; no-one seems to have noticed. He staggers to his feet and watches as Noé and Riche turn the corner; they haven’t noticed him. There’s something strange about him, he seems almost… transparent.

He walks up to Dante, already sympathising with the locals. So much for wanting to stay low and not reveal his dhampir nature. He tries to touch him but his hand passes right through. He’s still holding the Book which means he can still touch objects, just not living creatures; is that part of its power? Turning him completely invisible? Or can he just not touch dhampirs? He passes his hand through other patrons and concludes that it’s only living beings he can’t touch. Unless he can touch animals too. There aren’t any in the room and so he focuses on the Book in his hand.

A blue bookmark has appeared in it. He supposes that by pulling it out, he’ll turn visible again. He decides not to do that in the middle of the crowded room and goes up the staircase cautiously this time.

The moment he places his foot on the landing, he doubles over with a splitting headache. His skull pounds as if something’s trying to get out of it. As if this day couldn’t get worse. He looks up and silently gasps.

There’s a woman standing there though she’s very blurry at the edges. She has dark skin and long white hair. Her face is hidden by her long, hooded robes. She holds a staff made out of bones. A block of ice settles itself in his stomach. No-one has to tell him this is Vanitas of the Blue Moon, his instincts are already screaming at him to run. She doesn’t seem to have noticed him as her head keeps moving from side to side almost spasmodically and maybe it’s his imagination but is she getting clearer?

_She is,_ he realises with horror, _and soon, she’ll see me._ He frantically pulls the bookmark out of the Book and it dissolves between his fingers. She disappears and he takes large gulps of air.

Someone grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him into a room where he’s ungracefully thrown onto a wooden chair.

“Be more careful, Monsieur Nightray,” Warns LeSage, “That Book of yours is no plaything. And using it will only create more enemies for you.”

“And whose side are you on?” He snaps, his headache fading.

“On those who wish to destroy it. Which will not be yours if you continue to use it in such a frivolous manner.” LeSage answers in the same tone.

“I didn’t mean to. And it’s the first time I use it,” He doesn’t bother hiding the sourness in his voice, “How do you even know about this?”

“I am lucky enough to be considered as one of Chloé the Grey’s friend.” LeSage pulls off the hood, revealing braided dark hair with a part falling over half of his face and a stern expression.

“Or you could have just overheard me talking with Mademoiselle Ruth and you’re one of her goons.”

“I can assure you I’m not but if you don’t believe me, please, go join your friends. Come find me here if you need my help. And after having used the Book, I’m certain you will.” LeSage acts too calm for someone who knows about the Book and so, Vanitas doesn’t waste time trying to find out anymore from him and leaves the room, incredibly unnerved. All he wants right now is sleep but knowing himself, he probably won’t manage to.

He enters the room they reserved and Noé and Riche jump to their feet. Before they can ask, he (very reluctantly) tells them.

“So do we trust him or not?” Riche asks him at the end.

“Obviously not!” Vanitas retorts.

“Why not?” Noé muses, “He knows Chloé, doesn’t wear the insignia and he showed you his face. I think he smelled human as well but I’m not sure, (He rubs at his nose) the room was packed after all.”

“I wouldn’t trust him even if he was a frog,” He crosses his arms and they both glare at each other. Riche hugs herself, looking very uncomfortable with the situation, “It’d be suicide to do so and-” Before he can continue, the door slams open, making him jump.

“Quack! All of you!” Dante yells aggressively, “Bad news! One of the riders has been spotted!”

_“What?!”_ They ask in unison.

“This guy just walked in and said he’d been at the gates of Paris talking to the keeper when they’d spotted in the distance this dark figure.” Vanitas deflates.

“That could have been anything, baldy.”

“Let me finish! It did the scream! And the guy downstairs imitated it and everything!” Riche swears loudly before Vanitas can and they all stare at her. She blushes but holds their gazes.

“We should get LeSage.” Noé suggests and Dante asks ‘who?’ Riche fills him in as Vanitas struggles not to explode. He’s so _tired._ Of everything.

“No, we shouldn’t!” He ends up saying, “We barely know him!”

“I trust him more than that rider,” Dante declares and Vanitas turns to glare at him too, “If he’s human as Noé thinks he is, we’ll be able to overpower him easily.” Before Vanitas can protest, they’re already going into the corridor and asking him where LeSage is. He sighs and tells them and Riche knocks on the door. LeSage opens the door an inch, sees who they are and lets them in.

“We don’t trust you but we trust you more than those riders. They’re not far from here so help us.” Riche immediately declares, nose in the air.

“The riders? She’s already sent out Charlatan?” LeSage passes his hand over his face, frowning.

“Charlatan? Is that what they’re called?” Noé asks, saying the name slowly.

“Yes,” LeSage opens the curtains, peers outside and closes them again. There’s something hanging around his neck but it quickly disappears underneath his shirt, “When Vanitas of the Blue Moon created the Book, she created prototypes. The Grimoires. The eight who originally possessed them became Charlatan whether human, vampire or dhampir. However, I’ve heard a ninth one has joined them recently and become their leader. Neither living nor dead, they can’t be killed by any normal means. And once they find their prey, they don’t stop until they’re done. They’ll hunt you to the ends of the world, Monsieur Nightray.”

“So much for saying you could help,” Vanitas says. LeSage whirls around towards him, scowling. He internally smirks as the necklace comes in view. His triumph is short-lived when he sees what it is: a white cross. LeSage is a Chasseur, “Step back.” He warns.

“Chasseurs don’t hunt vampires anymore, only curse-bearers and criminals. A rule-breaker would do _wonders_ in this hotel,” He answers, sarcasm lacing his words. Clearly LeSage isn’t LePatient, “And I never said I couldn’t stop them from killing you _tonight.”_

“Thank you so much!” Noé steps forwards to clasp his hands. LeSage looks like he’s about to have a heart attack but he also seems to be very used to this sort of affectionate behaviour, “I’m Noé Archiviste and these are Dante and Riche. (He turns to glare at Vanitas.) I told you it would be fine Vanitas.” LeSage flinches.

“Vanitas?” He echoes.

“Oh,” Noé’s eyes widens as he realises the implications of the nickname, “In Averoigne, it’s just a nickname for unfortunate people. Nothing to do with the one of the Blue Moon.”

“Oh. Very well,” LeSage moves in an awkward fashion away from Noé, “Now, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”  


***

  
When the riders knock on her door, Amelia freezes. All of her patrons are gone and it’s getting very late. She’s heard what old Thomas has been saying of these riders he saw in the distance and so it was easy to believe that redheaded Nightray fellow-Elliot she thinks he said his name was. Additionally, he seemed popular at the bar which is always an added bonus in her books and what he told comes from LeSage. That man didn’t earn his nickname by acting rashly.

She extinguishes her candle and pulls on the rope she’s tied to the door’s lock. The door opens with a loud creaking sound and she ducks behind the bar. She hears the clunking of four pairs of armoured feet against the ground as well as loud rasping breaths and covers her mouth in fear.

Something tugs in her chest, her heart palpitating. _My true name,_ she realises with horror. They are trying to take her true name. She holds on with all her might but fortunately, they’re not as strong as she thought and their influence dissipates as they go up the staircase. She wonders how that white-haired vampire-Gilbert, she thinks- was so calm when he came in. Maybe the dhampirs diminished the riders’ effects, they are said to be much more resistant to magic after all.

_I hope they know what they’re doing,_ she thinks and wrings her hands together. She spots something out of the corner of her eye. _What is that?_  


***

  
The riders sniff loudly and the three people in LeSage’s room holds their breaths. LeSage has his sword in one hand and a knife in the other. He looks back at the strange Book-bearer, Vanitas. He’s wrapped in the vampire’s (_Noé_ he reminds himself, it’s hard to undo years of training and fraternize with what used to be the enemy) cloak as well as LeSage’s to mask his scent. Noé had also tried lying on him but he’d protested and so Noé had also wrapped him in the bedsheets; the situation would have been humorous had it not been so tense.

The dhampirs are safer due to having a fainter scent but there are two of them and LeSage isn’t taking any risks so they’re in another room, hopefully safe. The riders move on and they all visibly relax.

Time ticks on and their heart stops at every sound. An angry shriek rises from a few rooms down and there’s a series of loud knocking on every door as they run past, screeching, but apparently, they don’t believe in opening locked doors as they leave Hotel Chouchou. There’s the sound of horses neighing and then complete silence. Noé looks out of the window.

“They’re gone.” He states simply as if it were just a fact of life and watches the riders race out of Paris. Amelia knocks three times on their door and yelps when LeSage answers with his sword still out. The dhampirs are behind her, pale and shaken but unscathed.

_“What were they?”_ Amelia asks, clutching at the fabric above her heart, “They tried to take my name.”

“Dangerous is what but you’ll hopefully never have to see them again. We’ll be leaving at dawn tomorrow. I’ll pay for any damages.” Olivier proposes, he’s always had a soft spot for Amelia; she’s one of the rare kind souls in the world that don’t irritate him.

“Good luck with that,” Dante says, hands in his pockets, “They really don’t have good eyesight. The moment they saw our cloaks and Noé’s waistcoat on the beds, they didn’t even think to verify if we were actually under the sheets. You’ve got stabbed sheets and pillows, Mademoiselle Ruth. Our clothes are ruined.” He added for the benefit of the others.

“Still better than being dead.” LeSage answers, sheathing his sword. Vanitas emerges from underneath the cloaks and sheets and asks:

“Hold your horses! What do you mean by ‘we’re leaving tomorrow’? Where are we going?”

“No clue but it’s better than staying here. I doubt the riders will be kind enough to not knock down the doors if you stay.” They shoot each other nasty looks when Amelia speaks up with a slight stutter:

“I-I might have an idea about that. I forgot but Chloé the Grey left this,” She holds out an envelope, “It’s for a certain Vanitas.”

“That’s me,” He holds out his hand, refraining from making a biting comment about Amelia’s efficiency (she leaves with LeSage’s money before Vanitas’ self-restraint snaps) and reads it. His face changes the more his eyes travel down, from consternation to confusion to irritation to fatigue. He sets it down and passes a hand over his face, “It’s instructions for what to do if Chloé’s not there. She says we need to go to Altus, where Count Parks Orlok is. He should know what to do. (He lets out a very large sigh and looks at LeSage.) Can you guide us there, Chasseur? Or is a place mostly populated by vampires too much for you?”

“Of course, I’m on good terms with Count Orlok. I believe we should rest.” He orders and everyone obeys. The room LeSage is in already has six beds due to the fact that it’s a room reserved almost permanently reserved for Chasseurs and so they settle there. LeSage adds that it’s been a while since there have been more than two people there.

Noé, Dante and Riche fall asleep very quickly and LeSage takes much longer as he does a weapon inventory and cleans his sword. He keeps glancing up at Vanitas but doesn’t seem to find the courage or energy to start a conversation. Vanitas doesn’t encourage him as he gazes out of the window. He doesn’t sleep.


	4. The Archiviste Castle

_“Since Vanitas was often alone, she experimented with her power in secret. Her power was most efficient on vampires as all she could do on animals was make them slightly erratic and violent though they still obeyed her. There were no humans or dhampirs in her village so she didn’t know what would happen to them. This was before we could all live in harmony,_ chaton. _When being a vampire and living amongst humans was a lifestyle with a low chance of survival. Those were dangerous times, _chaton. _For everyone.”_  


***

LeSage wakes up ten minutes before the sun rises. Vanitas hasn’t moved since the last time he saw him, still wrapped in his and Noé’s cloaks and he’d think he’s turned into stone were it not for the fact that he’s blinking and that his chest is rising. He turns towards LeSage upon hearing him get up and imitates him. In complete silence, they wake up the others and LeSage almost gets pulled down by Noé until Vanitas pokes him in the ribs.

They have a quick and quiet breakfast and Amelia lends them some cloaks to replace the others that have been stabbed as well as two packs for the cousins and they set off. It has rained during the night and so the ground squelches under their feet as they walk.

LeSage takes large strides as he walks, used to travelling often, but upon seeing how much they struggle to keep up with him (save for Noé and his long legs), slows down. Altus is far away, around two weeks of walking at his rhythm. Slowing down will only make them more susceptible to being attacked by Charlatan or something else but becoming exhausted by speeding up isn’t an option either.

LeSage has a lot of regrets in his life. One of them is now deciding to help this group. The dhampirs are alright but Noé is too enthusiastic (and reminds him too much of a certain Chasseur he knows) and Vanitas is-very cagey to say the least. He knows the Book is a great burden both on the body and the mind but something tells him Vanitas is always like this.

He sighs. It’s always better than having to listen to the Chasseurs’ extremist faction during a meeting or having to babysit Astolfo to stop him from going on a rampage. Then he remembers Vanitas’ usage of the Book and his stomach sinks. There isn’t much information on the Book so he doesn’t know how quick or slow it is to possess someone. All he can do is hope Vanitas doesn’t succumb to it; he doesn’t want to kill him. Nor does he want to take the Book either.

They walk all day with a few breaks that are mostly filled with silence. He knows that they don’t fully trust him and he can’t blame them. He doesn’t trust himself either with the Book in proximity. Nor does he trust them completely.

They decide to take turns in being a lookout and Noé suggests he goes first. This surprises everyone but LeSage agrees. Dante doesn’t seem to be brave enough to stay awake in the dark and Riche doesn’t seem to be strong enough to stay awake at all. Vanitas desperately needs sleep as seen by the dark circles under his eyes and LeSage isn’t going to say no to extra rest. He volunteers for second shift and they settle down.  


***

Six more days pass with fortunately no sign of Charlatan and LeSage finds that if there’s something he can admire in that group, it’s their resilience. They walk for hours every day from sunrise to sundown (and sometimes even after). LeSage even starts shortening the number of breaks and they say _nothing._ There is the occasional complaint but it’s mostly from Dante or Riche who, from the small information LeSage has gathered over the short amount of time since they’ve met, have grown up in a rich human family which explains their nice clothes (though he still doesn’t know why Riche’s look slightly burnt) and how unused they are to the varying schedule he’s put up compared to the other two.

Noé is very eager to talk to him and jumps at any opportunity to do so though they only start doing so after the fourth day of their departure from Paris. The vampire enjoys hearing of all the places LeSage has seen which are numerous and since he prides himself on being an alright storyteller as well as having a good memory, he can entertain Noé for a while just by describing one city. Noé tells him stories of his childhood that consist of him mostly gardening or getting lost in Averoigne.

The seventh day, their usual scenery of muddy plains changes as they arrive at a hill on top of which stand the old, stone remains of a castle.

“Let’s get somewhere near the top; we’ll be able to see if anyone’s coming near us,” In a more sympathetic tone, LeSage adds, “At least the ground will be dryer.”

“But harder.” Riche mutters. They make their way up through a narrow staircase carved into the side of the hill. They’re all slightly glad that they reach the ruins before the sun goes down; the looming statues that still remain are intimidating and will be even more at night.

“Where are we?” Noé asks and LeSage turns towards him, frowning.

“I thought _you_ would know. White hair, dark skin; aren’t you an Archiviste?” Noé’s brows furrow and he nods, “This is the old Archiviste Castle.” Everyone’s eyes except Vanitas’ widen but for different reasons.

“Wait, we’re there already?!” Dante cries and Riche furiously nods in a way that shows that the question is important rather than actually answering it. LeSage crosses his arms over his chest and calmly nods back once. He turns back to Noé.

“Didn’t you know? This was where the Archivistes used to live a long time ago. They abandoned it-I think- because of pillaging humans; your clan was rather pacifistic and refused to kill them. They were also afraid of how the Chasseurs would retaliate, I believe, as Chasseurs could freely hunt them for any reason back then. Since that event, they’ve been rather nomadic until their so-called extermination a few years ago. I’d heard the rumours of there being a survivor and I guess it’s a good thing they’re true. It would have been a shame to lose such an important clan.” Noé seems to glow at the words whether at the indirect praise or at his family’s history, LeSage can’t tell.

“Wow,” Noé says slowly, a large smile forming itself on his lips, “I didn’t know about that! I was brought up by humans. _Grandmère_ and _Grandpère_ found me crying one day in their village in Averoigne and took me in. When they passed away (his smile wilts slightly), Teacher took me to Montmartre and I’ve lived there ever since.” He explains cheerfully at first and ends in a more nostalgic tone.

They settle their packs down and LeSage looks out onto the plains. There’s a large forest- also named after the Archivistes- not far away that they’ll start passing through tomorrow and he wonders how that’ll go. He knows the forest rather well and it’s been peaceful for the last few years but if Vanitas of the Blue Moon has already sent out Charlatan, he can’t trust it anymore.

He glances back at the others. They’re sitting in a circle, playing a card game Riche had in her pockets; she appears to be winning. He looks at them for a while then sighs. Reaching into his pack, he brings out four short swords and after whistling for their attention, throws them each one.

“Woah, where were these in Paris?” Riche asks, admiring hers.

“Do you know how to use these?” LeSage doesn’t bother answering her.

“Teacher taught me how to fence.” Noé says and LeSage really wonders who that ‘Teacher’ of his is because he seems to appear everywhere in Noé’s stories. Vanitas gives a curt nod and the cousins shake their heads. Dante grumbles something about being better with ranged weapons like crossbows but LeSage doesn’t have that on him.

“I’ll trust you can survive without me for a while. I’m going to get some firewood,” He declares, “The nights are going to start to get colder from now on. Try not to get yourselves killed. We may have a good view on everyone else but they can hear you just as well.” He doesn’t ask for their help and they don’t offer it, all too tired to be nice. The last image he sees of them is Dante cautiously cheating by adding more cards to Riche’s pile as she gazes into the distance.  


***

Like every other card game they’ve played in Averoigne, Riche wins. And all of the rounds after that despite Dante’s and Vanitas’ attempts to cheat and sabotage her; it’s one of the rare times they work together and yet, they often lose. They’re not mad about it though Dante tries to hide how proud he is of her (and fails); Vanitas has to repress two of his strange laughing fits at different points. Noé finds himself in second place most of the time.

LeSage isn’t back by the time the sun sets and they lay out their bed rolls. Unlike the previous days, they don’t immediately fall asleep. After a few minutes of silence, Riche asks:

“When do you think LeSage is coming back?”

“Good grief ugly, let him breathe,” Dante answers. It’s his turn to be the first lookout so he’s walking around, “He’s had us sticking to him like toddlers. He needs a break. And so do we. But why are you asking? Nursing a crush?” He teases and Vanitas snickers. They haven’t had the chance to talk so freely these last few days and it makes Noé laugh too. He feels slightly bad for poor Riche who is trying to protest quietly but it’s all in good fun and she ends up giggling too at the ridiculous idea.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Riche, I find LeSage quite… _charming.”_ Noé jokes and Vanitas makes a choking sound as he tries not to laugh too loudly. Noé likes this, a group of childhood friends that haven’t had the chance to interact so much in the last few years finally reunited.

Noé had met Dante and Riche upon his arrival in Averoigne with Teacher but he’d only met Vanitas when they were about thirteen years old. Dante and Riche had been quick to invite him into their group again, having known him before but Vanitas had changed and just about anyone’s presence disturbed him. They’d all drifted apart what with the cousins living further away and Vanitas acting aloof; Noé was glad that last part had changed.

“Noé, what kind of tastes-?” Vanitas starts to ask, still laughing but is cut off by a scream from the plains. Charlatan’s scream. Dante swears under his breath and they all bolt up. Vanitas is the only one to reach for his weapon instinctually and he hisses at them to get theirs. They haven’t lit a fire, relying solely on the light of the stars to see and they don’t know if they’ve been spotted or if Charlatan is just communicating that way. They stick close to the ground and peer out.

Vanitas can only see vague shapes but the dhampirs and Noé can distinguish more things than him and judging from Dante’s rapid swearing, it’s not good. LeSage probably wasn’t expecting that when he left them.

“I can see only four of them,” Noé whispers, “That’s not good.” The moment he says that, a tingle runs down Vanitas’ spine and his eyes finds one of the members. He immediately knows it’s the leader.

He stares at it.

It stares back.

Vanitas holds its gaze, unable to pull away, and something claws its way into his mind, finds his will and takes hold of it. All of his muscles lock into place and his mind goes blank. One of his hands starts slowly drifting towards his belt, towards the Book. It calls to him, in a soft lulling voice that sounds both like his mother and father. He wants to continue listening to them.

Noé notices what’s happening to Vanitas in the same instant that his hand reaches the case restraining the Book. Noé grabs him by his collar, pulls him back harshly and then lets go the moment he thinks Vanitas is out of Charlatan’s leader’s gaze. It screeches, something that sounds a bit too much like ‘Big brother’ and all of the riders set foot to the ground. They take out their swords.

“I think we need to get ready for a fight.” Noé says.  


***

When Charlatan arrives at the top of the hill, they are ready. Or at least, as close to ready as one can be when faced with immortal beings with a thirst for blood. Charlatan fans out, their leader in the centre and the plague doctor on its left. The other members still have no defining features.

Noé tries to push Vanitas behind him and Vanitas pushes right back. Noé scowls fiercely at him; how is he meant to protect him otherwise?

_“Give him to us.”_ The leader demands. _Him,_ Noé notes, _He must mean Vanitas then, not the Book. Is Vanitas ‘Big Brother’?_

“I refuse!” Noé answers, sticking his free hand out and firmly preventing Vanitas from advancing. A quick glance over his shoulder and oh-he has never seen Vanitas look this murderous since they were thirteen and Vanitas hated him purely for the fact that he was a vampire. Noé looks away.

_“Then you shall die.”_ The leader says in a sing-song voice, almost a child’s but with a certain snake-like quality to it. The leader takes a step backwards and the rest of Charlatan takes it as a sign to attack.

They’re instantly outnumbered and outmatched. Noé has his vampire strength and his lessons with Teacher but he’s never used either of these with a violent intent and fencing definitely isn’t the same as sword fighting. There’s also a tingle near his heart he suspects is what Amelia meant by ‘name-stealing’ but he doesn’t have time to focus on that and it doesn’t bother him too much.

Dante and Riche have never used swords and neither of them has inherited vampire strength; all they can do is make awkward swings to keep the members of Charlatan attacking them at bay.

Surprisingly enough, Vanitas is the best out of all of them. He uses the short sword as if he’s done it a thousand times before. Charlatan’s members aren’t targeting him, too focused on trying to kill Noé and the cousins, which he supposes is a good thing. Maybe he should take that back actually, Charlatan is treating it more like a game; a cat and mouse hunt that will inevitably end with their deaths.

His distraction costs him as the plague doctor knocks the sword out of his hand. Noé dodges its next strike and attempts breaking its sword by bringing his elbow down on it. The moment he tries to do so, a cold blue flame runs along the surface of the blade and sears off part of his sleeve and skin as soon they make contact. He lets out a cry of both pain and surprise and staggers backwards. The plague doctor draws back its arm to deal a final blow but Vanitas jumps in front of Noé and it has to change its weapon’s course to avoid him. Vanitas drops to the floor and Noé punches it in the face. The mask cracks under his fist and it’s sent flying backwards with a shriek.

“Careful!” Vanitas admonishes as he picks up his sword and throws it back at him. Noé catches it, his elbow already starting to heal, “Their skin’s probably deadlier than their swords! Now, go help the idiots!” Vanitas pushes him away and when he turns away, he sees the leader. It’s sitting casually on one of the bigger pieces of rubble and watching it all unfold with its chin in its hand. He almost regrets sending Noé away. He lifts his sword up, preparing to plunge it right into its face when it looks up and says in that all-too familiar voice:

_“You know what to do.”_ It can’t be him. It just can’t. Yet Vanitas can imagine his smile, the way he clasped his hands behind his back when he talked, the way he’d gasp in awe when Vanitas showed him a coin trick… And something in him _knows._ He drops his sword, takes out the Book and whirls around. It flips open and there’s a crackling sound as well as a blinding white light and the Charlatan members all reel backwards.

Dante, Noé and Riche all stare at him in horror, frozen in place, but he doesn’t understand why. From their point of view, his eyes, normally an eerie light blue, are _glowing._ Charlatan’s members don’t try to get back up and a feeling of elation surges through him. He’d done that. He, thought to be powerless by almost everyone, had done that. A grin finds its way onto his lips as he puts the Book back in its place.

_“Well done,”_ Charlatan’s leader places its gauntlet-covered hand on his shoulder, _“You’ll be a good addition.”_ Vanitas makes no sound as the dagger slides between his ribs. The smile stays on his face even as the leader twists it, pulls it out and watches him fall.

The spell on the others breaks and they run towards him. Dante and Riche make threatening motions with their swords but Charlatan doesn’t do anything and all the leader does is drop the dagger and take a step back; they don’t try to approach him. Noé drops his sword and kneels next to him. Vanitas’ clothes are starting to turn red but Noé doesn’t feel hungry. Not when his friend is bleeding out in front of him. His skin is already too cold for Noé’s liking. He lifts up Vanitas’ shirt, awfully aware of the fact that a normal Vanitas, however injured, would murder him before letting him do that. His gaze skims over the old scars and finds the new wound. Dark blue veins stretch out from the wound and as he watches, they expand. He presses his hands across the wound, hoping to slow down the bleeding.

_“You won’t save him. Soon, he’ll be one of-”_ Charlatan’s leader screams in pain as a lit branch lands at its feet and sets its robes on fire. LeSage leaps out of the shadows, sword in hand, and grabs the makeshift torch. Charlatan’s members throw themselves at him but he waves the torch and they recoil.

“Back!” He yells, “You may not be able to die but you can feel pain!” He threatens and though it’s a critical situation, Noé wonders how his hair doesn’t accidentally get set on fire what with all the waving around he’s doing with that branch.

_“Careful Chasseur!”_ The leader hisses, _“You don’t want to disappoint everyone, do you?”_ LeSage doesn’t even flinch.

“I said back!” The torch describes an arc in the air, dangerously close to the leader and it makes a growling sound from the back of its throat. The rest of Charlatan gathers around it. The blue mist that Noé remembers from their first encounter swirls around their feet intensely.

_“You. Can’t. Save. Him. He’s_ mine.” It warns one last time. The mist rears up to twice their size and engulfs Charlatan. When it clears, Charlatan is gone.

“Vanitas of the Blue Moon called them back.” LeSage lowers the torch and his sword, incredulous.

“Who cares?! The quack is dying!” Dante cries.

“Should I-should I bite him? I might be able to suck out the poison!” Noé panics and LeSage cuffs the back of his head.

“All it will do is infect you, control your instincts.” LeSage snaps, “Does anyone here know what athelas is?”

“I do. But it’s just a weed.” Noé says.

“Trust me. It isn’t. Go find me some. A handful should do. Riche, take his place. Dante, help me. We’re going to cauterize the wound. Wounds caused by Charlatan don’t heal that easily; all it will do is slow down the poison. For a moment. (He looks up.) What are you waiting for Noé? Go get the athelas!” Noé turns and runs down the hill, the feeling of Vanitas’ blood on his hands all too present.  


***

Vanitas won’t stop bleeding. Or at least, he’s doing something close to bleeding. Whatever’s seeping out of his wound is dark and oily and Riche cringes at its touch but instead of backing away and squealing as she would normally do in Averoigne, she presses harder.

“Careful,” LeSage warns, “Your pressure is good but don’t increase it too much. We don’t want to break his ribs.”

“Should we cauterize him again?” Dante asks. The moment Noé had left, they’d heated LeSage’s blade and pressed it against the wound. A glimmer of life had returned to Vanitas’ still-glowing eyes but he’d made no noise as it had happened. Dante didn’t know if he reacted like that to pain normally or if he was still somewhat possessed but either way, it was unnerving. After a few minutes, the wound had opened again with a sizzling sound.

“No. It still causes physical pain and too much might end up permanently damaging him or killing him. We can’t take that risk. Yet.”

“So all we can do is wait for Noé?”

“Yes, Vanitas’ survival depends solely on him.” LeSage answers and Dante swears.

“What took you so long?” Riche asks, voice shaking and eyes blazing with anger, “If you hadn’t left, Vanitas wouldn’t be dying!”

“Finding firewood that was somewhat dry is harder than you think. And when night falls, it’s even harder to get back when you’re worried about causing any noise and attracting potential enemies! How was I to know they’d already found you?” LeSage snaps then sighs, “Apologies. I shouldn’t be acting like this when-”

“I’ve got some!” Noé yells, running into the ruins, a clump of what looks like grass to Dante clenched in his hand. LeSage takes the athelas, chews it (which would have disgusted most of them in any other situation) and applies the paste onto the wound. Vanitas makes a rapid succession of hiccupping sounds and the glow in his eyes fade. His eyes slowly start closing and he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

“Is he going to be alright?” Riche clutches her bloodied hands to her chest.

“Not until we get him to Orlok. Athelas is only preventing his death for as long as it can,” LeSage answers, bandaging the wound, “We need to pick up the pace. We’re leaving. Now.”

“How can some grass be more efficient than a burning blade?” Dante wonders aloud and a ghost of a smile flits over LeSage’s lips.

“Athelas is often considered as a weed but what few people know is that they’re very sensitive to magic. Whenever they sense it in the air, they absorb it. Most athelas plants are therefore imbued with magic,” He explains as they pack up again. Their bed rolls were kicked to the side during the battle and it takes a moment to find them again. He turns serious at his next comment, “It’s what the Chasseurs eat before hunting. It amplifies our abilities.”

“How come you don’t have any?” Dante prods.

_“Because,”_ LeSage sighs as if strongly burdened by something, “My own supply was taken from me in the middle of the night by one of my companions just before we split up and I went to Paris. I only realised it too late.”

“Why would they do that?” Noé asks, hefting his bag onto his back before picking up Vanitas. The others had taken some things from his bag to alleviate the weight; they’d also done the same to Vanitas’ bag too.

“Because my mission was over and his wasn’t. Now, enough chit-chat. We’re leaving.”


	5. Altus

_“But calm days weren’t meant to last for Vanitas. Someone discovered her experiments and there was an uproar. What she did to the animals was temporary but it scared the villagers immensely. They were terrified and fear drives people to do the silliest things,_ chaton. _They exiled her and she ran, shivering and beaten, her heart bleeding raw of all of its love over time. When she reached the land of the Blue Moon, at the edge of France, her heart was dark with bitterness and hatred. It was no surprise then, that Vanitas didn’t shudder at the cold emanating from the glowing river that flows underneath the soil of the land of the Blue Moon and gives it its name. Cruel people lived there-both vampires and humans- and when they tried to kill her, she turned the vampires with no remorse. The new curse bearers turned against those who used to be their friends and attacked. Those that survived her wrath surrendered and soon enough, she ruled over them. Now that she was queen and free to use her power, she prepared for war. The vampires would pay for this offense and since the humans hadn’t helped her, so would they."_  


***

Vanitas’ condition remains stable for two days thanks to the athelas and they pick some more as they go. There are some moments where he appears lucid and they try to talk to him then though the only thing he appears to be able to say is that he’s cold and some incoherent rambling about someone called ‘Misha’.  
  
The third day, when Noé squeezes his hand to warn him he’s going to pick him up (he tends to thrash about like a wild animal when not warned), he realises it’s burning. LeSage swears when he tells them and they all know why for once; they’re just around a days’ walk from Altus. They start walking so as not to waste time debating in one spot.  
  
“Noé, you’re a vampire. That means you’re quick as well as strong. If I showed you the way, would you be alright with going ahead?” LeSage asks.  
  
“No way!” Riche protests, “He gets lost in Montmartre and he’s lived there since he was eight!”  
  
“I won’t when it’s a matter of life and death!” Noé snaps, a small fiery rage igniting in him.  
  
“Yes you will Noé,” Dante says calmly, cutting him off, “Someone’s nature doesn’t change that easily.” Dark circles have settled under the dhampir’s eyes and Noé remembers that despite the rivalry he has with Vanitas, they used to be friends. Noé looks at the ground, his cheeks burning in shame. LeSage swears again.  
  
“We _have_ to take such a risk,” Before any objections can be raised, he continues, “If we don’t, it’s certain he’ll die. We _have _to try. Noé, are you up to the task?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
“Well I hope so. First, take off your bag; we don’t want extra weight slowing you down. Listen to me carefully now. The path to Altus is rather linear from here. You can recognise trees, yes?” He continued as if he’d already gotten Noé’s answer, “You should encounter these markers in order: a felled oak tree, two creeks very close to each other –less than five metres-, a beech tree with large claw marks on the side in the middle and finally, a birch tree with a large burn mark. Go in the direction the burn is-I think it’s the right-and continue. You should reach Altus then. They’ll probably let you in but if they don’t, mention me. Any ribbons you see tied in trees are also indicators of the way to go; I left them. Understand?”  
  
“Yes. I’ll do my best LeSage. Dante. Riche.” He nods and sets off, quickly becoming a blur.  
  
“Do you think he’ll make it?” Dante asks as LeSage takes up Noé’s pack.  
  
“Let’s pray that he does.”  


***

Noé zips through the trees, clutching Vanitas tightly to him. Noé can hear him make small groans of pain in his fever-induced sleep.  
  
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there soon.” He whispers, having no idea if Vanitas can actually hear him. He still continues doing it, just in case. He spots something red in the trees and stops himself abruptly. It’s a scrap of cloth swinging in the wind and he hopes that’s what LeSage means by ‘ribbons’; the ones Vanitas normally tie around his neck and waist are nicer looking. They’re less ragged and cleaner though he hasn’t really had the occasion to wear them since they left Averoigne. (Noé has seen them in the bottom of his bag and he guesses they’re for their journey home when they’re not being chased by Charlatan.)  
  
He finds the oak tree after a few more ribbons, allows himself less than a minute of rest and sets off again. There’s a frightening lack of ribbons after that and his heart stops upon thinking he might have gotten lost when he spots one, trampled in the mud. He hesitates, not knowing if a gust of wind blew it there or if it’s on the actual path but when Vanitas coughs painfully, as if he’s going to hack his lungs out, Noé throws all caution to the wind and continues on the path he’s on.  
  
Fortunately, he’s proven right when he hears the gurgling of water in the distance and finds the first creek LeSage mentioned. He takes another break at the creek, refilling their gourds and giving Vanitas some fresh water. He takes out his handkerchief from his pocket, dips it in the creek and places it on his forehead. Vanitas makes a small sound and he hopes it’s out of relief.  
  
The second creek isn’t far away and is slightly larger than the first one. Noé carefully crosses it before speeding up once he reaches the other side.  
  
It’s almost midday when he finds the clawed beech tree. His mind is sluggish and his muscles ache from the exertion. He rarely used his vampire strength or speed in Averoigne and never both at once. He’s tiring too quickly but he needs to continue.  
  
That’s when things go wrong. He takes a wrong turn shortly after the beech tree but realises it too late. He’s lost. He turns around, tries to see where he came from but everything looks the same. Even the ground has no traces of his feet. His stomach twists into knots.  
  
Despite how dangerous it could be, he decides to focus and amplify his senses like Teacher taught him. The first thing that hits him is the smell of Vanitas’ blood. His mouth waters and his stomach grumbles. He flinches and has to set Vanitas down to avoid the world from spinning. His fangs automatically extend but he steps back. He’d like to think it’s his self-control but it’s mostly the fact that Vanitas is poisoned that stops him.  
  
He covers his mouth and nose with a hand and listens. There’s the crawling sound of a colony of ants near him and he has to ignore them as well as the wind blowing through the treetops to hear more. There’s the chirping of birds he cannot see in the trees and the skittering of small rodents fearfully avoiding him on the ground and something else. He concentrates and the unknown sound becomes more distinct, into something like voices and-horses?  
  
“Hello?” He calls out. LeSage said Altus was filled with vampires, they should be able to hear him, “Can you hear me? Please, we need help!” The voices abruptly stop but the sound of hooves gets louder until his ears hurt and he regresses back to human senses.  
  
Two piebald horses emerge from his left. Their riders are vampire siblings. They have pointed features and whilst the sister has black hair tied back, the brother has white hair falling over half of his face. They look down at him from their horses.  
  
“Identify yourself.” The sister orders.  
  
“Noé Archiviste. Please, my friend is poisoned! We need to get to Altus! We’re friends of Chloé the Grey and the Chasseur LeSage! Please!” He finds himself rambling as he tries to keep Vanitas upright. The sister grabs Vanitas by his collar and hauls him onto her horse. The brother extends a hand to Noé.  
  
“Come. We have been waiting for you. My name is Manet and my sister is Nox.” Noé climbs onto the horse and they set off at a light canter.  
  
“I have other companions. Three to be precise. Two dhampirs and LeSage.” Noé says and the siblings look at each other before glancing at Vanitas.  
  
“They are in good hands with LeSage. We will get them later.” Manet answers and the horses start galloping towards Altus.  


***

Vanitas has a feverish dream filled with visions of Vanitas of the Blue Moon who turns into Misha wearing Charlatan’s leader’s clothes who turns into his parents.  
  
His mother disappears and his father becomes a bald vampire with a thick white moustache, a series of scars on his face, a monocle and a stern expression. The vampire leans over him and makes a few hums as he examines him. Vanitas’ vision starts to swim as the vampire turns away for a moment to say something. He can’t make out the words but a familiar voice he can’t place answers him. The vampire comes back to him and notices he’s something close to awake.  
  
“We’ll have to turn you around to treat you, boy. It’ll probably hurt.” Vanitas’ body already feels like it’s on fire and he would tell him so but his eyes roll up back in his head and he passes out.  


***

Vanitas wakes up with an ache in his abdomen and a pounding headache. He tries to open his eyes but bright line shines through and he closes them with a groan. He tries to move his hands next but his muscles plead at him not to and he ignores them by throwing one of his arms over his face in a more dramatic fashion than originally intended.  
  
There’s a low, familiar chuckle and he bolts up at it, wincing as pain arcs through him. Chloé the Grey sits at the bedside, wearing a new dark grey dress with black roses embroidered on it. She’s not wearing her usual hat and her hair is fluffed. There’s a scab beneath her lower lip, her cheek has a bandage on it and her right arm is in a sling.  
  
“What happened to you?” He asks, his words slightly slurred.  
  
“Not now,” She shakes her head, “You need to rest. You were healed by Count Orlok in the nick of time.” Healed? He doesn’t remember getting injured-the memories of the night in Archiviste Castle rush back. He sees Noé pushing him back to protect him and frowns. Without meaning to, he mouths the vampire’s name and she interprets it as him wanting information.  
  
“Resting too. He wouldn’t allow himself any rest until the rest of your group was there,” She smiles softly, “When they arrived, he refused until he knew you were alright. Orlok’s servants seemed very tempted by the idea of restraining him.”  
  
“The others?” If he asks about Noé, he might as well learn about the rest.  
  
“Safe though they said they saw shadows in the woods. Possibly Charlatan. But it’s safe here,” She gets up from her chair and puts her left hand on his forehead. He feels his consciousness start to drift away, “Rest now.” His eyes close and he falls into a dreamless sleep.  


***

Vanitas wakes up, feeling a lot less worse than before. Everything still hurts but it’s more bearable and he manages to sit up with relative ease.  
There’s a tray with food and water on the bedside table to his left and whilst he’s not hungry, he knows it would do him some good. Especially since it isn’t bread, meat or cheese. As he chews the porridge he’s been served, he looks around the room. It’s large and decorated with light, airy colours; it’s comforting and reminds him of Bag End. He can’t wait to go home.  
  
There’s a knock on the door just as he finishes eating and he invites them in.  
  
“You’re awake!” Riche cries and almost throws herself on the bed but Dante stops her.  
  
“Careful ugly!” He reprimands her, “After all the trouble we went to save him, you don’t want to hurt him, do you?”  
  
“Whatever fatso!” She scowls fiercely. Noé comes into view and awkwardly hovers in the doorway. Vanitas finds it incredibly unfair that he looks so well-rested whilst he probably looks horrible. His suspicions are confirmed when Dante tells him so.  
  
“You tell me why, baldy,” He cranes his neck to look behind Noé, “Where’s LeSage?” Not that he particularly cares but he’d like to know.  
  
“Talking with old Orlok and Chloé,” Trust Dante to instantly give their host a potentially insulting nickname, “Something about organising a meeting about the Book. Do _you_ know what happened to Chloé?” Vanitas shakes his head, “Shame. She won’t tell us either. What could hurt a witch that badly?”  
  
“Charlatan? LeSage said there were nine in total and we only saw four.” Riche suggests tentatively and Vanitas silently agrees with her. Unless there’s another enemy they’re not aware of.  
  
“Whatever, ugly,” Dante scowls, annoyed at not having guessed that, “Let’s see if we can learn anything useful around here.” He grabs Riche by the arm and they leave. Noé remains, still not speaking.  
  
“Well? Are you going to say something?” Vanitas prompts him. Noé sits at the edge of the bed and stares at his hands for a moment.  
  
“Are you angry?” Noé finally asks.  
  
“No.” Vanitas answers and he’s telling the truth. He’s not angry, he’s boiling with barely contained rage.  
  
“Do you have something to say then? You look like you do.”  
  
“No I don’t.”  
  
“You do,” They glare at each other, annoyed by the other’s stubbornness, “Is this about what happened on Archiviste Castle?”  
  
“A lot of things happened there Noé.”  
  
“When I stepped in between you and Charlatan. You looked furious.” Vanitas’ face darkens and he scowls fiercely.  
  
“Don’t try to assume things about me Noé! You know nothing!” He lashes out, “What you did back there-was incredibly irritating! I am not a piece of glass and without me, you would have died!” Noé stares at him then also snaps.  
  
“Maybe but doing that was incredibly risky! Charlatan may have been trying to keep you alive but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t harm you or try to take the Book! If they’d taken the Book, France would have ended! And it probably would have had LeSage not arrived and Charlatan disappeared!”  
  
“So you would have preferred I just let you all die?! Then they would have come for me for certain. And-” He stops mid-sentence and his hand flies to his lower back. He goes pale and his voice comes out strident, “Where’s the Book? Noé, where’s the Book?”  
  
“On the chair, underneath the clean clothes,” He points and Vanitas starts getting out of bed, “I don’t think you should be doing that.” He tries to be calm but there’s a certain edge to his voice. A terse yet worried edge.  
  
“I’ve been doing nothing for who-knows-how-long Noé so unless you plan on helping me put this shirt on, you can get out.” He answers, sliding on black trousers. His arms hurt if he lifts them up too much (lifting that tray of food was a mistake).  
  
When Vanitas takes off the too-large nightshirt he’s been given, Noé purses his lips. He’s seen Vanitas’ scars before (mostly by accident as he was reporting on the garden and had forgotten to knock) but their sight always angers him. And now there’s a new one on his back. Noé starts helping him put on the shirt and neither of them are happy about it. He pauses upon helping him with the right sleeve.  
  
“Vanitas? Was the mark always that big?” The mark is what they call the spider web of dark blue lines that crisscrossed around his wrist. It’s a secret that Vanitas forced Noé to keep when they were fifteen; not even Chloé knows of the mark. It’s now stretched over his hand and down his forearm. Vanitas swears.  
  
“No. (He swears again.) I’m going to need some gloves.” They finish putting on his shirt and start on the blue waistcoat.  
  
“Is that really a good idea? Count Orlok must have seen it whilst healing you. Or one of his servants.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not showcasing it more than I need to,” Before they can start another argument (which would have happened inevitably judging from Noé’s face), there’s a knock at the door, “Come in.”  
  
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” A familiar face shows and Vanitas is _done_ with today upon recognizing it.  
  
“Teacher!” Noé cries, going to embrace him. Vanitas sits on the chair on which the Book rests, hiding it from view. Surprise upon seeing him hasn’t made him forget that Teacher is partly corrupted.  
  
“Hello _chaton._Oh my, have you grown taller?” He returns the hug and smiles at Vanitas, “Good to see you back on your feet. A shame to hear the truth about that Book of yours. I enjoyed it.” Noé and Vanitas stiffen.  
  
“Well it might just end the world,” Vanitas says and Teacher nods slowly, “Do you live here now?”  
  
“Until the need to start anew seizes me again,” He looks over his shoulder, “Look what I found here,” A ball of white fluff with a grumpy face and mismatched eyes trots in, “His name is Murr. He’s got a temper.” Noé crouches to stroke Murr and the cat answers with a scratch. Noé doesn’t seem to mind. Murr walks over to Vanitas and tries to twine himself around his ankles. Fully aware of his tricks now, Vanitas ignores him. And gets bit for doing so. They scowl at each other.  
  
“Do you know what happened to Chloé?” Vanitas asks.  
  
“Yes but it isn’t my story to tell.” He grins enigmatically and even Noé who thinks Teacher is a saint knows this is probably one of the biggest lies he’s told. If there’s two things Teacher loves more than himself, it’s gossip and any potential chance of talking about gossip. Either Chloé hasn’t told him or she’s threatened him (or bribed him though both aren’t mutually exclusive).  
  
“Thanks Teacher,” Noé smiles tiredly, “Do you know anything about the meeting Count Orlok’s organizing?”  
  
“I _knew_ I had something to tell you!” He claps his hands together as if he'd forgotten. Noé and Vanitas exchange a glance; he’s lying again but knowing Teacher, he withheld whatever he’s going to tell them more out of a need to be dramatic than out of any ill intent towards them, “They’ve sent out letters to the elves and dwarves-”  
  
“Elves? Dwarves?” Noé has only heard of them in fairy tales. Does that mean they’re real?  
  
“They’re nicknames amongst the Chasseurs. Elves are Chasseurs who operate mostly in the forest. Dwarves operate mostly in the mountains. Both groups tend to have some sort of rivalry between them. Those like LeSage who just wander are just called Chasseurs,” Vanitas explains, looking exasperated though Noé doesn’t know if it’s at him or at Teacher. Knowing Vanitas, it’s both, “So much for teaching him.” Teacher’s smile becomes apologetic but only for a split second.  
  
“Anyways, the one you call LeSage decided to summon them-”  
  
“The one we call LeSage?” Vanitas interrupts and Teacher frowns for a second at being interrupted.  
  
“Well _obviously_ that’s not his _real_ name and (he sighs as if in pain) I can’t tell you his real name. But the important news is that they’ve sent a letter to the De Sade Regency and with a bit of luck, Dominique or Louis will be sent here!”  
  
“Really?!” Noé clasps Teacher’s hands, overjoyed, “That’s brilliant news! I haven’t seen them in years!”  
  
“Who?” Vanitas mutters, brow furrowed as he tries to recognize the name and fails.  
  
“My grandchildren. Well, there’s also Veronica but since she’s now regent, she won’t be coming. Louis was a rather sickly child and was sent to Averoigne to recuperate. His younger sister, Dominique, came with him for a short while. Louis left after a year or two. You weren’t there.”  
  
“Huh. That’s bound to be interesting.”  


***

As they wait for everyone to gather in Altus, they slowly adapt to their current home. Noé spends a lot of his time with Teacher or in the gardens and despite how much he tries, Murr still strongly dislikes him. It’s a good thing vampires heal quickly otherwise his hands would be constantly covered in scratches.  
  
Dante and Riche make friends with Manet and Nox despite all odds and when the siblings aren’t doing some sort of chore, they’re all seen together either playing cards, talking or-sowing? Orlok seems very proud of Nox and Manet and does a terrible job of hiding it in front of everyone except them.  
  
It takes days for Vanitas to fully heal and leave his room for extended periods of time. Well, ‘fully heal’ is a lie. He knows that scar has him tethered to Charlatan now and it will have repercussions. At least during his period of rest he had time to think. Misha, he has decided, can’t be Charlatan’s leader. For three reasons.  
  
First of all, Misha had always been a sweet kid and the last he saw of him, he was being dragged, kicking and screaming into the shadows; he strongly doubts Misha would join them willingly. Secondly, Misha is only a year younger than Vanitas; even if he joined Charlatan, he wouldn’t be made leader when the original eight have three thousand years or so of experience. And thirdly, Misha’s left hand was crippled long ago and the longswords Charlatan had required two fully functional hands.  
  
(He ignores the small voice telling him that people change and that Vanitas of the Blue Moon is a powerful vampire; turning people to her side and gifting them with new limbs is something she must be very familiar with.)  
  
Now that he’s free of people telling him to stay in bed, he’s free to explore Altus to his heart’s content. It’s nice enough he supposes with its numerous arches, swirling spires, beautiful marble statues and light, warm colours though the fact that he can’t take two steps without tripping over a book is both frustrating and interesting as they vary in genre and size so anyone can find their pick anywhere without having to make the trip to the library.  
  
When he isn’t reading or exploring, he’s glaring at the Book. Everyone in Altus knows it’s there which makes him paranoid. What if it tempts someone and they steal it? What if the Book manages to twist a vampire’s name? Can the Book restore a twisted name? Due to all of these doubts, he keeps it at the bottom of the chest at the end of his bed, buried underneath his cleaned-of-blood-and-dirt clothes and bag. He can’t deny the fact that the Book still interests him and that he doesn’t want to let go of it so soon. Using it at Archiviste Castle-he hasn’t felt this alive in a long time.  
  
When Vanitas isn’t doing any of these things, he’s rather reluctantly talking with the others. He doesn’t have much in common with Riche and he and Dante tend to avoid each other so he rarely goes to see them.  
  
Noé, he feels at first, probably doesn’t want to talk to him after their argument but the vampire shows up at his door one day with a book under his arm and they both read in silence together; Vanitas curled up in a chair and Noé on his bed so he can stretch out his long legs. Even though they try to make these meetings nightly, right after dinner, Teacher often drags Noé away to show him something new and so Vanitas finds himself alone.  
  
As for Chloé, she’s too busy to make time for anyone that isn’t Orlok. The council has her very preoccupied and whenever he sees her, there’s a permanent frown on her face. Most of the time, she’s shifting through music sheets; maybe new ways to harness her magic? They might be going to war after all.  
  
Surprisingly enough, LeSage is the best of them all and yet the worst. He extends the offer of sparring with Vanitas which he takes up because he is bored. Reading can only do so much to entertain him when he has so many questions and exploring is getting tiresome. Sparring can only do him good. As an added bonus, whatever remarks LeSage has about Vanitas’ fighting style he keeps to himself save for any improvements Vanitas can make. He’s a stern but surprisingly good teacher. When they fight, LeSage treats him like an equal though it’s obvious he’s holding back (Vanitas chalks that up to his own recent injuries). Outside of that, LeSage treats him like he’s made of glass. It’s infuriating and Vanitas resolves to change that by keeping up his manic mask until LeSage snaps.  
  
He doesn’t. Vanitas is almost impressed but he’s currently holding a grudge and so refuses to acknowledge that feeling. He wonders what could make LeSage so easily annoyed yet so unwilling to yield to actual anger when the Elves arrive and Vanitas _understands._ Because no matter how hard or how long he tries, his forced cheerfulness will never beat the real thing. That Roland fellow is the _worst._  


***

The Elves arrive and Vanitas is so ready to start ringing the bells of “Remember Noé they’re still Chasseurs they’re dangerous” because Noé seems to think all Chasseurs are like LeSage when Roland jumps from his horse and after having hugged LeSage (who looks tired yet content), embraces Noé with a cry of “My good vampire! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” (He does the same to everyone else and Vanitas is certain a piece of his soul died that day).  
  
Roland is so chipper and enthusiastic; Vanitas sometimes wonders if they’re actually on the verge of a war. At least he’s certain of two things: one, that LeSage has the patience of a saint (though he does reprimand Roland harshly the night of his arrival; the context isn’t very clear but Vanitas hears something about taking his athelas supply over Roland’s laughter) and that two, Roland’s personality will be the end of him if he ends up alone with him. He’s also not entirely unconvinced that Noé and Roland haven’t already exchanged some sort of friendship bracelet seeing how often those two interact.  
  
At least the two Chasseurs accompanying Roland are normal. If one ignores the fact that they take their cherubic-looking paladin for an angel. Georges isn’t what he’d expect to find in the Chasseurs. He looks soft, acts soft and talks soft. But judging from the large war hammer he carries and the fact that he’s still alive, he isn’t useless. The other Chasseur is a woman called Maria wielding a large bow and she doesn’t look too pleased to be here. She looks at everyone with suspicion (which he really can’t blame her for doing) and even more so if that person is a vampire; not the best person to stay in a vampire city. He’s starting to think the Elves care more about showing strength than diplomacy. Though something tells him that if LeSage can stand Roland, there’s something more to him than just constant optimism. _And,_ Vanitas thinks, _he’s a paladin, one of the Chasseurs’ captains; that must mean something._  
  
In the end, all Vanitas can say is that they seem adept. And he thinks that if Maria is the most anti-vampire person there, everything should be some semblance of fine when the Dwarves turn up. There’s two of them and they’re just as strange as the Elves. Marco doesn’t look like much of a fighter and he stumbles over most of his words as he introduces himself. Vanitas doesn’t have much to say about him. It’s the other one, Astolfo, he has his sights on. And not in a good way.  
  
The kid is around sixteen or seventeen years old-so around Riche’s age-and he’s already a paladin. Vanitas would be somewhat impressed if he wasn’t wondering what on _France_ the Chasseurs were thinking when they gave him that title. It’s obvious at first glance Astolfo is one of the worst choices they could have made. He grips his spear in a way that shows he won’t hesitate to use it, definitely isn’t vampire-friendly judging from the furious scowl on his face and Marco gives him a _wide_ berth.  
  
That last detail is the most important part to Vanitas. Solidarity between Chasseurs is one of the most important factors of survival because no matter how good or bad someone is, if they’re well-liked, they’ll be helped in times of need. Roland’s group all appreciate each other, they can work together. _This_ doesn’t look like a functioning team and he wonders why the Dwarves sent Astolfo. Either he’s a genius or the Chasseurs don’t know what they’re doing. Or, worst case scenario, they’re counting on his barely restrained hostility to start another war.  
  
And so at first he thinks _No, the Chasseurs wouldn’t._ But then he remembers that Dwarves tend to be on the extremist side of the Chasseurs spectrum and he thinks _Yes, the Chasseurs would._ If they could exterminate as many vampires as possible under the guise of them being potential victims of Vanitas of the Blue Moon, they’d seize the opportunity.  
  
He spends careful time after that meeting ringing the bells of “Do not think of him as a woman or a child he will not hesitate to kill you do not speak to him do not look at him do not stand near him do not even _breathe_ near him don’t interact with him on any level _do you understand?!”_ right into Noé’s ears. And it seems to work because Noé keeps his distance from Astolfo despite how curious he is to learn more about Dwarves. Vanitas feels vaguely proud of him. Not that he would ever tell him.  


***

Only a day after the Dwarves settle down in Altus, the De Sade Regency’s delegacy arrives. Vanitas is surprised, all of these groups arrived much sooner that what he’s calculated. Almost as if they were already on their way. As if something was calling them here. There’ll be clarifications during the council he hopes.  
  
The delegacy is larger than the Elves’ by two people but Vanitas is only interested by one person: Louis de Sade who, according to Noé, is morbid but nice. He supposes having Dominique instead of her brother is alright but Noé couldn’t tell him as much about her so he isn’t very intrigued by her. He’s certain she had a crush on Noé though.  
  
Teacher’s eyes stick to a black-haired vampire with golden eyes a few years older than Vanitas and he assumes that’s Louis. Teacher and Louis’s gazes meet and Louis’ eyes-already weary and distant due to the exhaustion of traveling- go cold. Teacher’s usual smile doesn’t move an inch. There’s obviously some sort of tension between them and Vanitas is ready to sit down and watch the show unfold when Noé emerges and Louis’ attention moves to him. Something softens in his face and instead of looking like he ate an entire lemon, he’s only eaten a slice. Shame.  
  
Louis dismounts from his horse and embraces Noé affectionately. Teacher retreats and Vanitas is about to do the same when the two vampires pull apart and Noé gestures at him to come over.  
  
“Vanitas?” Louis muses as Noé introduces him.  
  
“It’s a nickname, means ‘unfortunate’ in Averoigne.” Vanitas explains quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose. All of a sudden, he’s glad this group is the last one to arrive; he’s tired of having to explain the same thing over and over again.  
  
“Now that you mention it, I remember something like that,” Louis yawns, “Sorry, I’m tired. We’ve been travelling for months now.”  
  
“Months? So you didn’t receive a letter from Count Orlok?” Noé beats him to it.  
  
“We did actually. A few days ago. In the shape of a bird, it just sort of-fell on me. I guess it was enchanted to go to any De Sade that wasn’t Grandfather (his mouths twists). I sent it on its way to Veronica so she’d know. But no, we didn’t come here specifically for the end of the world.”  
  
“It’s not necessarily the end of-” Noé starts but Louis puts his hand on his shoulder and stops him.  
  
“Noé, it definitely is.” _Huh. He really is interesting, _Vanitas thinks and unconsciously tags along as Louis leads his horse to the stables, his delegacy having already gone ahead without him.  
  
“How’s Domi?” Noé asks.  
  
“All grown up and pretty,” Louis shoots Noé a teasing grin and Vanitas knew it, Dominique did have a crush on Noé. But judging from Noé’s face, he’s completely unaware of it, “She’s a force to be reckoned with on many aspects. (A pause.) How come _he’s_ here?” Vanitas assumes he’s talking about Teacher and is proven right by Noé’s response.  
  
“He wanted to move. (Another pause.) Louis, I know you can’t forgive Teacher but can’t you at least try to not hate him?” Noé’s pleas turn silent as Louis glowers at him. Huh. Normally, he isn’t silenced that easily but his words were rather half-hearted. Vanitas senses emotional baggage.  
  
“Noé, he had me convinced I was a curse bearer for months!” Wait what, “I was carving stakes as a hobby because it reassured me that I could be killed if I turned!” _Wait, what._  
  
“That’s true…” Noé sighs, looking at his feet.  
  
“Huh. I was right to not trust him.” Vanitas mutters and Louis turns around to grin at him.  


***

Due to everyone’s unexpectedly early arrival, the council is moved from months away to only days. Vanitas spends them avoiding the Chasseurs (even LeSage since he sticks to Roland) and talking with Louis. Vanitas ends up liking the vampire more than he originally intended. Their similar sense of humour and mutual dislike of Teacher only makes them more willing to talk. So does the fact that they both know Noé; talking about his antics can get them going for ages.  
  
Dante is horrified by this when he first sees Louis and even calls him a second Vanitas; Louis laughs. For a noble, he’s awfully close to the lower classes. And he’s easily likeable. He even manages to make LeSage laugh on the eve of the council when he suggests that he, LeSage and Vanitas form their own group of dark-haired people with friends made out of sunshine.  
  
“It’s good to see you all enjoying yourselves,” Chloé enters the dining hall. Her bandages and sling are gone but she leans heavily on her staff, “And all gathered in one place, even better.” It’s pure coincidence. They all tend to eat at different times but tonight, they’re all here. Chloé takes a seat, her feet not even brushing the ground, “Please, come closer.” They all listen to her, even Astolfo, and sit wherever they can near her whether on tables, chairs or on the floor.  
  
“What is it my good witch?” Roland asks cheerfully, a large grin on his face. Chloé smiles at him wryly, amused by how casually he treats her compared to his comrades who remain respectful and humble.  
  
“Tomorrow, we have the council. And I know you have all been wondering who wounded me and how. So tonight, I will tell you what happened.” 


	6. Chloé's Tale

_I was alive during the War and so saw it unfold before my very eyes. I was still young and didn’t know how to use my magic properly but I do remember the day Vanitas of the Blue Moon fell. I had watched the battlefield from afar, in awe at the sheer force of the two armies. It was the first time vampires and humans worked together for the greater good but what could they do when faced with pure evil?_  
  
_For a while, the scales seemed to be tipped in our favour. The vampires were led by Count Orlok and the humans by Charlemagne, one of the first twelve paladins of the Chasseurs. Whenever I could, I would send down discordant music to the enemy’s ears which would cause them to halt in their tracks at the horrifying sound. For a moment, it looked like we might win without too many losses and then Vanitas of the Blue Moon stepped onto the battlefield._  
  
_Again, I was safe on a hill with a good view with my master, the most powerful witch. But when Vanitas arrived in her flowing robes as if a war weren’t happening around her, a staff made out of bones in one hand and the Book in the other, beautiful yet terrible, my blood froze. So you can imagine what the warriors felt._  
  
_She opened the Book and our side went flying as if they weighed nothing and weren’t wearing metal armour. There was a flash of light from the Book and the original eight of Charlatan appeared. Another blinding light and some vampires doubled over as they became curse bearers and turned against their friends and family. Blood stained the ground and bones snapped in their own sinister chorus. Their screams continue to echo in my ears._  
  
_But this part of the story isn’t about me. Together, Orlok and Charlemagne made their way towards her despite the fact that Orlok had just lost his eye and that many of the enemies they cut down were former comrades. Vanitas laughed upon seeing them, eagerly waiting for the moment she could turn Orlok and watch him tear Charlemagne limb from limb. But she didn’t get the chance._  
  
_My master, who had not cast a single spell, lifted up her arms and an enormous bolt of lightning crashed onto Vanitas. It barely stunned her but it was enough. Orlok threw his sword at her throat but she deflected with her staff, almost decapitating Charlemagne. He dodged and swung at the arm holding the Book. His blade, Joyeuse, passed through her wrist as if it weren’t there yet it fell off and she screamed._  
  
_Underneath our eyes, she shrank and convulsed rapidly. Joyeuse shattered in Charlemagne’s hands. It hadn’t been long since she’d created the perfected version of the Book and so she was still strongly linked to it. Being separated from it caused her spirit to detach from her body as it turned to dust. But we saw it: Charlemagne, Orlok, my master and I. And just before her spirit also disappeared, she cursed us all in different ways. Orlok lost the ability to heal rapidly and he almost died that day, giving him those scars. My master lost a part of her power and so did I but less than her. It was also there that I stopped aging; witches age very slowly but I stopped completely. And Charlemagne- he had it the worst out of all of us._  
  
_Because what Vanitas did was have the most virtuous of all be corrupted. The Book was only bonded to her since it was a part of her soul but before she retreated, she did one last modification: anyone could use the Book but it would always, _always,_ want to go back to her. The Book reached into Charlemagne’s mind and latched on. We had lost so much only to gain so little and we didn’t even know._  
  
_Once Vanitas was gone, the battle quickly ended as the enemy forces retreated. This was beneficial to us as we had all fainted due to her curse. When Orlok woke up, he found Charlemagne clutching the remains of Joyeuse and the Book. He told Charlemagne they needed to destroy the Book as he’d already deduced it was an object of great evil. His first instinct was to throw the Book into the volcano the Blue Doom but Charlemagne, already being corrupted, refused. And since the Book was helping him, it forced Orlok to stop pressing the issue. It couldn’t force him to be quiet forever but when its influence diminished, it was too late. Charlemagne and he had already separated; Orlok going back to Altus and Charlemagne going to Notre Dame- the De Sade Regency today- to be crowned king._  
  
_Charlemagne, as most of you know, lived for a few more years before being attacked by a vampire still loyal to Vanitas of the Blue Moon. No-one knows why he was out of the city but since the Book was in his possession at the time, I suppose it might have been trying to get to back to its master. As my friend died, the Book abandoned him and was lost.  
_

***

_So when I left Averoigne two months ago, I was worried. I had found the Book, an artefact of evil after it had been lost for three thousand years and it had been hidden under my nose for five years. A close friend of mine had already started being corrupted by it when he only used it sparingly and for harmless jokes._

_I was scared and I found only one solution: to go to the Tower of the Sun in the land of Parade where my old master, Faustina the Silver, lives. I told Vanitas and Noé to meet me in Paris but unfortunately I didn’t have the chance to._

_For those of you who have never seen the Tower of the Sun-which is most of you-, it is a beautiful thing with large stained windows depicting the cycles of the sun, the moon and the stars. The Silver Woods start around it, a luscious green despite their name. And there was my old master in her silver robes, her long hair flowing to her feet. She opened her arms as she walked down the stairs gracefully and said:_

_“Chloé, good to see you again. Tell me, what is troubling you?” And so I told her as we walked around the Parade. It’s a rather small piece of land but it did me some good. After a month of riding at full speed with the help of magic, barely allowing my horse or myself a break, walking was relaxing._

_When I finished my story, she took my hand like she used to when I was her apprentice and a callow youth and led me into the Tower. Once we were at the top, she finally spoke._

_“Your story explains a lot. I’ve been hearing things recently. Whispers from the Land of the Blue Moon,” She cleared her throat then said in a manner-of-fact voice, “Vanitas has found a new body recently and now she’s stirring. Charlatan has already left the Tower of Babel and I fear they’re going straight to Averoigne. Your Book-bearer may already be no more.” All the things she had said, I had ignored and I realised I had a mistake. I shouldn’t have left._

_“What? How do you know that?” I asked her. She only nodded in the direction of a plinth I had failed to notice before. On it rested a leather-bound book whose cover seemed to shift between different shades of blue and I instantly knew what it was. One of the eight Grimoires._

_For those unaware, the Grimoires are prototypes of the Book and were used to create Charlatan. But since they were just prototypes, they were faulty. They each corrupted a member of Charlatan one after the other but once that was done, the part of Vanitas’ soul she had implanted slipped out, leaving them as a way to see events of the past, present and future. But that doesn’t mean they’re safe. See, most of those who use a Grimoire die in some sort of tragedy or go mad, their mind shattered by the horrors they’ve seen._

_The one Faustina had, it didn’t exude an aura of evil or malice or even cold. But I knew what it was. Even though I couldn’t recognise the Book that could cause the end of the world, I recognised _this. 

_“How-?” My fingers barely brushed the cover that I recoiled, the image of a blue moon almost burned in my mind, “You’re directly connected to her?” I turned, horrified at these news, only to find her directly behind her. Startled, I almost knocked the plinth over._

_“Times are changing. We’re weaker. Charlemagne is dead. Orlok is old. The world is changing and if we wish to survive, we need to too. We cannot stop her. What we did three thousand years ago only prevented the inevitable for a moment much like the man who protects himself from the rain thinks he is safe from the hurricane.”_

_“You want to ally yourself with Vanitas of the Blue Moon?” My voice almost rose to a shriek but I stopped myself. There must have been some reason to this madness, some trace of my old master in here._

_“Want to? No, I already have. Such a shame you haven’t come to see me these last five years, you might have noticed earlier.”_

_“You told me the point of witches was to _help.” 

_“You were a child and children need to be reassured,” She answered nonchalantly, “I’m giving you a choice now. Will you join me?”_

_“After all we’ve worked for? Are you insane?” I spat, now enraged._

_“Then you shall die.” She answered simply, cupping my face with her hands, her long nails digging into my cheek before kissing me. No need to look scandalized all of you. It’s a warning._

_I pushed her away, lips bleeding, and stumbled back into the plinth. She was dazed, probably unused to being resisted, and I lunged for my staff. I grabbed it and thought about summoning some sort of barrier between the two of us. Nothing happened._

_See, when Faustina kissed me, she took my power for herself. I couldn’t use my magic and whilst I know how to fight, I still have the body of a child. I was powerless._

_She looked at me and all of my limbs locked into place. With my magic added to hers, she was different. Part of her was consumed by shadows, one of her piercing red eyes cracked and shining with white light amongst them. It didn’t bother her. In fact, she laughed and said:_

_“This form again? How kind of you Chloé. Let me show you my thanks.” She held out a hand and I went flying, hitting the wall with enough force to make several of my bones snap. She kept me pinned to the wall for a few seconds then let me go. I landed badly and my head rang. I tried to say something, a curse maybe, but passed out._  


***

_When I woke up, I was lying flat on my back. My head was filled with cotton and I could barely string two thoughts together. I tasted blood in my mouth and there was a dull throb in my ribs and wrist. There was no tingling in my body, meaning I wasn’t healing. And if I wasn’t healing, then I still hadn’t regained my magic or if I had, it wasn’t enough. I didn’t even try to get up and instead preferred to observe my surroundings from the ground._

_It wasn’t hard to determine that I was at the very top of the tower, the glass ceiling stretching out before my eyes. I managed a smile. Faustina was right, a shame we hadn’t seen each other in a while. Otherwise, she would have known I’d started entertaining a friendship with birds. After all, they make their own sort of music. And I could see one watching me through the glass._

_I whistled a few notes and it flew off. I hoped it had understood me and I closed my eyes._  


__

***

__

__  
_When I opened them again, the sun was setting. Breathing was a little bit easier and I managed to sit up even though it left me gasping and wheezing. I dragged myself to the edge of the room and looked out._

_I was met with an unfamiliar landscape. The Parade’s trees were gone, replaced by constructions of steel and iron. The ground crawled with motion with what I think were humans, vampires and curse bearers. It was obvious more time had passed than what I had originally anticipated._

_Then maybe my rescue would come sooner. I could survive a while without food or drink but I needed to be in good enough condition in order to do my part. The Tower of the Sun is warded against any hostile forces and I needed to work on unravelling them. Only the top of the Tower’s otherwise I would be here for far too long._

_I closed my eyes and meditated. Time moved around me at both a snail’s crawl and a wolf’s leap. Some parts of the wards fell apart as soon as I probed at them, fragile from age. Others needed to be untangled carefully, any mistake made potentially leading to an alarm sounding or harm. One after the other, they frayed away and when I was at the last one, I paused and opened my eyes._

_Faustina had been clever as well as careful with her spells. If I broke the last one-a particularly nasty one that involved spikes shooting out of the glass-Faustina would be notified and my rescue would fail. I had to wait until the right moment but that proved precarious as my eyes kept closing slowly, sleep trying to seize hold of my mind. And if I fell asleep, a lot of things could go wrong. The wards could restore themselves. I might break the last one accidentally. I might miss my rescuer and subsequently, the spell would destroy them._

_In the end, it was my wounds that kept me awake. Whenever I felt my vigilance waver, I moved around and that kept me awake._

_After what felt like an age-and I had seen those come and go-my rescue arrived. I saw the shape of an eagle in the sky and smiled. It dove, its silhouette getting larger and larger with every second, and I broke the last ward. A shriek sounded in my ears-a not so subtle alarm- and there was a commotion from the ground. But it was too late. The giant eagle crashed in the ceiling, spraying glass everywhere as I covered my face with my arms. It swooped and I reached for its talons. I missed but it still managed to grab me._

_“I suppose you got my message?” I asked, grinning despite my injuries, despite the rushing wind around me, despite everything._

_“Of course, friend,” Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles of the North, laughed, a raucous, discordant thing and I laughed back, almost hysterically, as the Parade vanished in the distance, “But I will not take you very far. My kind needs me in these trying times. Where do you want to go?” I knew he wouldn’t take me to Altus-the area is heavily warded with all sorts of magic that even Faustina would find incredibly difficult to undo; that is why Charlatan wasn’t able to follow you- so I chose the next best thing:_

_“Set me down in the kingdom of Oriflammes!” I’d be able to recuperate and acquire a rapid means of transportation there. I found refuge in a farmer’s home and as soon as my ribs were healed, I set off for Altus, my mind plagued with doubts as to whether the Averoigne group was alive or not._

_And that, is what has happened to me._  


***

Chloé finishes her story dramatically. Everyone stares at her, all stunned in various degrees.  
  
“Any questions you have can wait for tomorrow. Get a good night’s rest, we have a council to attend to tomorrow.” She gets up, brushes her dress and leaves the dining hall as if nothing has happened.


	7. Orlok's Council

_“Teacher, Teacher!” Noé runs up to him, clutching a book in his arms._  
  
_“What is it, _chaton?”_ Teacher ruffles his hair, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Noé squirms a bit under his disapproving glance. The full moon shines brightly through the window and for a moment, it looks blue. Noé blinks several times; he’s been reading too many stories._  
  
_“I don’t understand what this passage was about,” He holds up the open book, “And Louis was too tired and ill to properly explain.”_  
  
_“Hm,” He skims rapidly through the text, “You don’t understand curse bearers?”_  
  
_“No, I don’t.” He shakes his head and Teacher crouches to his height._  
  
_“You see, curse bearers are vampires whose true names were taken from them. Due to the fact that their names are stolen, their entire being is corrupted and they become terrible beasts. They are hunted down the Chasseurs.”_  
  
_“But I don’t understand. Vanitas of the Blue Moon was the one who spread the curse and since she’s gone, how come the Chasseurs still exist?”_  
  
_“Well, no-one really knows how, but when Vanitas was defeated, the curse became…separate from her body. So it’s a rare occurrence but it still exists,” He doesn’t mention the fact that it’s becoming more and more common, “Do you get it now?”_  
  
_“Thank you Teacher!” Noé vigorously nods._  
  
_“Go to bed now.” Teacher ruffles his hair one last time and watches him go. Two days later, Louis finds a list of curse bearer symptoms conveniently placed on the library table and his smiles stop._  


_ __ _

***

Noé is woken up the next day by Murr jumping onto his bed. He’s tempted to go back to sleep but then remembers today is the day of the council. He distractedly stokes Murr and the cat’s left ear twitches before he bats his hand away.  
  
He gets dressed and decides to go get Vanitas before heading to breakfast. It’s rather early but when he knocks at his door, there’s no answer. He peers inside; no-one. He’s not at breakfast either. In fact, no-one’s there and Noé eats alone.  
  
Just when he finishes, the doors open and Vanitas enters. Dark shadows rest underneath his eyes; he hasn’t slept.  
  
“There you are,” He says upon spotting Noé, “I thought you might not know where the council is being held so I came to find you.”  
  
“Thanks!” He replies brightly.  
  
“Mm, let’s just get this over with.” They walk side-by-side to an open courtyard with a stone plinth in the middle that has always been empty but now has been filled with chairs laid out in a circle. Only Dante and Riche are there for the moment, having taken simple wooden chairs near a large, imposing one Noé supposes is Orlok’s. Vanitas takes the seat on Dante’s right and Noé takes the seat next to him, the one closest to Orlok’s. He hopes it wasn’t reserved for anyone.  
  
“I’m surprised they let us attend,” He says, “We’re not really involved in all of this. Except for you Vanitas.”  
  
“I suppose old Orlok understood Dante’s and Riche’s nosy personalities very well. (Both cousins make sounds of protest.) If he didn’t let them in, they’d find a way to eavesdrop. There was no reason to not include you especially since you’re close to Teacher.” Vanitas explains, rearranging himself in his chair.  
  
“That makes sense,” Noé passes a hand through his hair, “Even if Louis and Teacher are at odds, a diplomatic incident against one will make them allies. And since Teacher isn’t part of the council, I suppose I represent him. Louis refuses to.”  
  
“Wait, Teacher isn’t coming?” Vanitas’ eyes widen for a fraction of a second.  
  
“Chloé told him the corruption was too strong in him and that they didn’t need him as a curse bearer to prove the gravity of the situation.”  
  
“Huh.” Vanitas lapses into silence and Noé wonders how much longer they need to wait until the council starts. The answer is not long and one after the other, the different groups trickle in. Chloé is one of the last few to arrive, carried by Manet.  
  
All of the chairs are taken. Opposite Noé is Nox and he smiles at her. She offers him a small one in return but quickly turns away, her attention clearly on Astolfo who’s settled on sitting directly opposite Orlok; a seat that should be reserved for important people. Fortunately enough, Louis and his delegacy have already sat down on Riche’s left; Louis with two of his people on each side. Strangely enough, it’s Roland who looks angered but only for a few seconds before LeSage tugs him down between him and Georges, facing Louis.  
  
Orlok claps his hands together and everyone turns to him.  
  
“Everyone, before we start, I thank you for coming. We are here to discuss world-ending matters. No matter how this meeting ends, I will always be glad you came. Let the Council begin.”  


***

“Actually no, I have something to say first,” Louis interjects, “My group didn’t come specifically because of the Book.”  
  
“And what did you come for then?” Marco asks, very uncomfortable at the fact that he’s sitting in between Astolfo and a vampire from Louis’ group.  
  
“Dominique and I were given a riddle in our dreams the same night. It said:  
_Seek for the cheerful blade’s dwelling_  
_Where Charlemagne’s new hand lies_  
_Decisions made will lead to Doom_  
_And the Book holds all answers_  
_One of you shall stay and the other shall go_  
_And despite all of your efforts, you shall lose what’s dearest to you.”_ Louis recites.  
  
“And do you have any idea of what any of it means?” Chloé prompts.  
  
“Joyeuse being the cheerful blade and residing in Altus I headed there, my sister remaining behind. I suppose Charlemagne’s hand would be his descendant and the next lines, I feel, are some sort of taunt. As for the thing I cherish most, well, I’d be rather upset if I lost my rationality.” He jokes wryly, “But I don’t understand why we both got this dream.”  
  
“Prophetic dreams,” Orlok answers, looking him straight in the eye, “Have always been a tendency in your family. Your grandfather had his fair share in his youth. But what you say is interesting.”  
  
“Hm,” One of the De Sade delegates turns to Marco then Roland, “How about your groups? How did you get here so quickly?”  
  
“A strange rider came to our location. He wore a Chasseur’s clothes but his face was covered by a horned mask with many eyes. He seemed confused and asked several strange questions about a ‘project’ and Averoigne. Whenever anyone asked him for news of wherever he came from, he’d answer but the things he’d say... they were strange yet familiar to me. When I looked in our archives, I realised he was talking about events that happened five years ago. When the rider was gone, we decided to follow him. ” Marco answers, becoming more confident as he continues.  
  
“We had the same thing happen! Same person too!” Roland grins and Orlok frowns but not at him.  
  
“I remember him. Monsieur Spider, one of Charlatan’s members. I believe he was a Chasseur but betrayed them during the war,” Orlok explains, “Chloé, do you know more?”  
  
“Monsieur Spider…” Chloé swings her feet as she thinks, “He’s both strong and smart. I remember…there was something different about him from the rest of Charlatan. Something magical that ran deeper than the corruption of the Grimoire. I don’t know much more.”  
  
“Anyhow, we followed him for a while but he disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke and then something, almost like something was pulling us, called us over to Altus on until we got the letter. Did that happen to you too?” Maria asks Marco and he nods, “What’s that about? Disappearing like that?”  
  
“Vanitas of the Blue Moon called him back to her. She can do that but can’t send them anywhere she wants to. She can only bring them back to where they were before. It’s a one-way power. She probably moved him away so she could lose you and see what Spider learnt,” Chloé says and looks directly at Noé, “However, I still do not understand why she made Charlatan disappear that night at Archiviste Castle when the Book was almost in her grasp.”  
  
“Perhaps she was displeased,” Riche says and freezes upon realising everyone’s looking at her, “I-uh-I mean, when Vanitas-our Vanitas- was stabbed, he was starting to become one of them. Since she’s bent on destroying most of the world, perhaps she was displeased by the creation of another member.”  
  
“A sound theory,” Orlok answers and Riche visibly brightens, “Let us to turn to the main matter at hand. Human, if you could.” He turns to Vanitas and gestures to the plinth. Vanitas gets up and pulls the Book from its case. The silence that falls is deafening and wordlessly, Vanitas sets it on the plinth and retires to his seat.  
  
His face, Noé notes, is blank. A clean slate. But his eyes are dark and impenetrable. What is he thinking? Noé doesn’t know but something tells him it’s related to Charlatan’s leader. It had spoken to Vanitas and then he’d used the Book with the most genuine smile Noé had ever seen playing on his lips. With his eyes glowing unnaturally, the moon behind him had almost shone blue and Noé had frozen, partly out of fear but mostly out of fascination. If he hadn’t known Vanitas for so long, he might have thought he was Charlatan’s man.  
  
He tunes back into the conversation at hand. One of the few Altus residents who are part of the meeting has asked why they couldn’t just use the Book for their own benefit and is currently getting lectured by Orlok.  
  
“It’s obvious then, it needs to be destroyed.” LeSage interrupts before Orlok can continue for another ten minutes.  
  
“Then why hasn’t anyone done it yet?” Astolfo asks, his tone more aggressive than necessary. Marco wriggles in his seat, a cold sweat starting to shine on his forehead.  
  
“Maybe because it’s magical?” Roland taps a finger against his cheek as he speaks. His remark is innocent but Astolfo grits his teeth at it.  
  
“Monsieur Roland is right,” Chloé turns her feet in circular motions as if exercising her ankles. A bird lands on her shoulder and she brushes it away distractedly, “The Book, as you can all see, has some metallic astermite elements on its cover. Those pieces are enchanted to render it invulnerable to all harm except for one: the Blue Doom’s volcanic crater where they were forged. Dropping the Book in there should melt the pieces and destroy it.”  
  
“You’re suggesting an expedition to the Land of the Blue Moon?!” Dante looks stunned, unconsciously mimicking the same expression from when he first saw Charlatan’s leader. Chloé looks him straight in the eyes and he stiffens.  
  
“I’m not suggesting Dante, I’m announcing it.”  
  
“So we destroy the Book and subsequently Vanitas of the Blue Moon,” Louis puts his chin on his fist, “How should one get there? Vanitas sees all and with Faustina’s help (he shivers), well, I dread the outcome.”  
  
“Obviously,” Astolfo sneers, “The Eagles are to be used!”  
  
“Didn’t you listen to Chloé?” LeSage snaps, “They have their own problems and even if they didn’t, Faustina or Vanitas would see us coming from miles away and in case you’d forgotten, they know magic!”  
  
“Give us a solution then since you’re so wise!” Astolfo retorts, ready to leap out of his chair.  
  
“Careful!” Roland jumps out of his seat, serious for once, and sensing what he’s about to say, LeSage hides his face in his hands, “You’re talking to Olivier, paladin of the Chasseurs, descendant of Charlemagne and heir to Notre Dame’s crown!” Louis flinches and sits up straighter. Noé leans forwards to watch him closely and sees him carefully place his hand over his mouth; clearly, he hadn’t believed the riddle. Noé turns to Vanitas and sees him wearing a slightly unsettling smile as if hearing these news pleases him. But Noé knows him well enough to know something in him is worried.  
  
“Roland, please…” Olivier gestures at him to sit back down, “We need to focus and decide who will go on this expedition-by foot Astolfo-and most importantly, who will bear the Book.”  
  
“I will go,” Chloé announces, “But I cannot carry it. As the most powerful one here, I am the most inclined to being tempted as well as the one the Book wishes to corrupt the most. I would die rather than carry it.”  
  
“I will go too I suppose,” Louis lowers his hand from his face and grins, “I may not be able to carry the Book due to being a vampire and so more susceptible to having my name twisted but I am a skilled swordsman and something tells me this is what the riddle was talking about.”  
  
“So only humans can carry it…” One of the De Sade delegates muses.  
  
“Or dhampirs. They are after all immune to most of the effects of magic.” Orlok adds. Dante and Riche blink, having not known about this until now, then shrink when realising everyone’s looking at them.  
  
“No thanks!” They refuse in unison.  
  
“I can take it!” Roland raises his hand and exclaims brightly, “I know Olivier won’t take it so as a fellow paladin, I’ll do it!”  
  
“As if I’ll let an Elf take all the glory!” Astolfo jumps up, features twisted with fury. The conversation devolves into pointless arguing as the Elves and Dwarves (Noé has to pinch himself to convince himself it’s really Marco) bicker. Somehow, it devolves and everyone in the council gets pulled in except for the Averoigne group (as they’ve come to be known).  
  
Noé supposes it’s his Archiviste powers but he can see dark blue tendrils extend from the Book to wrap themselves around everyone. Many gather around Chloé but not as many do manage to grab her. They seem to avoid Dante and Riche which is how he supposes they remain so level-headed and when he looks at his feet, the tendrils retreat from him as if noticing his gaze. They all vanish but he still feels their presence. He looks at Vanitas and regrets not knowing how much of the Book’s magic surrounds him. All colour has drained from his face, his breathing is laboured and he has one hand clutching his side exactly where his stab wound is; Noé’s certain his mark is also hurting and if he focuses, he can hear his heartbeat speeding up. Noé extends a hand towards him but Vanitas gets up.  
  
“I’ll do it!” He yells and grabs the Book, “I’ll take the Book!” Everyone falls silent as if all air has been taken out of their lungs and Noé watches as Vanitas flusters, panics and continues, “I…uh…you see, as a human with no status, the Book corrupting me has no devastating impact on the world!” No-one says anything for a while.  
  
“I accept that,” Olivier says before Vanitas can dig his grave any further and Chloé nods slowly. Orlok does too, “You know how to survive. I’ll come too.”  
  
“Then so will I!” Astolfo and Roland declare at the same time though one’s scowling and the other’s smiling.  
  
“If Vanitas is going, I will too!” Noé gets up and blushes when Vanitas half-glares half-glances inquisitively at him, “Miss Chloé said I was to protect him during his voyage and it’s evidently not finished.” Chloé confirms it with another nod.  
  
“I support that decision, he’s powerful.” She says and no-one dares question her.  
  
“Then we’ll come too!” Riche grabs Dante by the sleeve and pulls him up.  
  
“Yeah,” Dante mutters, “Someone needs to keep the quack and the country bumpkin in line and worst case scenario, we’ll survive longest to the Book.”  
  
“Then that settles it! There’ll be nine of us just like Charlatan.” Chloé claps her hands together, “No more no less!” Orlok doesn’t say anything and looks on approvingly, putting all of his trust in her judgement.  
  
“In how many days shall we leave?” Louis asks, ignoring the delegates pleading with him to not leave. He hisses something that sounds like “I was told to follow Charlemagne’s heir so you can tell Veronica to shove it. Domi can replace me as Captain of the Guards.”  
  
“That depends. Young human,” Orlok turns to Olivier, “You need to forge a new Joyeuse. How long do you think it will take you?”  
  
“Not long if Chloé helps me. Around five days.”  
  
“Make it a week then. Thank you friends, for joining the council.” Orlok concludes, “The members of the Fellowship, please take that time to prepare yourself. Book-bearer, please take your burden.”  


***

As they head back to their respective rooms, Noé is too lost in thought to think about the consequences of his choices. He doesn’t understand why Vanitas-who was so desperate to be done with the whole adventure-chose to continue. It bothers him immensely and just when he starts to wonder why he decided so quickly to follow him, a voice speaks up behind them.  
  
“Noé, Vanitas, come with me,” They turn to see Teacher standing calmly in the corner, a cane between his hands, “I have something to give to you two before you leave.”  
  
“You know?” Noé asks, bewildered.  
  
“Of course,” Teacher throws over his shoulder as he walks, “I had my suspicions you’d both do such things.”  
  
“Of course.” Vanitas mutters.  
  
“Welcome,” Teacher opens the door to his room, “To my humble abode.” It’s anything but humble with every surface draped with some form of ornate decoration or large swathes of richly dyed fabrics that trail to the ground. Teacher takes a seat around a round table and Noé imitates him. Vanitas props himself on a dresser decorated with a deep blue piece of cloth.  
  
“You have something to give to us?” Vanitas asks.  
  
“Yes!” Teacher laces his fingers together and tilts his head to the side.  
  
“Please?” Noé tries when it’s obvious Teacher isn’t going to add anything.  
  
“Hm?” Teacher makes a sound as if he hadn’t realised what had been happening, “Here you go!” He leans underneath the table and retrieves a package. He carefully unwraps it, revealing two sheathed daggers and a metallic waistcoat.  
  
“What are they made of?” Vanitas gets off of the dresser and takes one of the blades. He unsheathes it cautiously, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.  
  
“Both are made of a metallic form of astermite. Very resistant and durable. The daggers glow when anyone hostile to their wielder draws near. The waistcoat’s for you, _chaton,”_ He pushes it towards Noé, “And I’ve heard you’re good with knives Vanitas.”  
  
“Mm,” Vanitas makes no further commentary and Noé remembers the first time he saw Vanitas’ mark. He’d almost been stabbed with a kitchen knife and had only avoided injury thanks to his speed. Noé expresses his thanks and Vanitas reluctantly does the same, “I’ll have to make adjustments to the belt.” He puts the daggers back on the table and turns away as Noé tries on the waistcoat (it fits perfectly as if it were made for him).  
  
“Is that the Book?” Teacher asks and Vanitas remembers he isn’t wearing his cloak today. He and Noé both freeze, “May I see it?” He gets up and holds out his hand expectantly. Noé takes the smallest of steps backwards as Vanitas grins as obnoxiously as he can.  
  
“Obviously not!” He crows and Teacher smiles, his eyes closing in understanding. He steps back and leans his cane against the table, his movements ever so slow and precise.  
  
Teacher lunges, his features suddenly twisting into something unrecognisable. He’s so fast his movements become a blur and before Vanitas can reach for one of the daggers, his hand is already reaching around his throat, sharp nails digging in.  
  
There’s a sickening _snap_ as Noé brings his hand down on what-used-to-be-Teacher’s wrist and it recoils with a curse, cradling its broken hand to its chest. There’s a hiss of black smoke and its face turns back to Teacher’s, his face alight with horror as he takes some shaky steps backwards and falls onto his chair. He passes his non-injured hand over his face, as if feeling for a difference.  
  
“I think we should leave.” Noé says, an arm outstretched in front of Vanitas.  
  
“Y-yes I think you should.” Teacher’s hand is now at his own throat and his fangs are still out. Vanitas watches him, his eyes dead, and leaves without a word. He’s the only one who saw how his daggers continued to glow even after Teacher returned to normal. 


	8. The Two Heirs

_“Say Louis? Can you tell me a story?” A ten year old Noé asks from the comfort of Louis’ bed. Dominique has just left a few days ago and Noé hasn’t yet adapted to her departure so he seeks Louis’ companionship._  
  
_“Sure. What kind?” There’s the sound of rustling sheets as twelve year old Louis turns over to face him, “One you’ve heard before or-?”_  
  
_“No,” Despite the fact that Teacher doesn’t care whether they talk or not after curfew, Noé keeps his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper that Louis unconsciously mimics, “Can you tell me a story from your kingdom?” Louis leans over and flicks him on the forehead._  
  
_“We don’t have a king,” He chides, “We’re a regency. You should know this by now,” He grins in the dark, fully aware that Noé’s night vision isn’t as fully developed as his, meaning he can’t see Louis, “Guess I’ll have to tell Grandfather that you’re not studying enough.” He sighs as if shaming him. This is the period just before Teacher makes him think he’s a curse bearer so his teasing isn’t half-hearted._  
  
_“Louis! Don’t! Please!” Noé begs and he snickers. Upon realising he’s just being made fun of, Noé pouts. Louis only laughs louder._  
  
_“Alright, alright! You’ll get your story!” Louis goes through the multitude of stories he knows and finds one. He starts speaking:_  
  
_“What I’m going to tell you is actually more historical than fictional but it’s a story nonetheless._  
  
_In the first age, there were only humans. They weren’t like the humans nowadays because they all had a bit of magic in their veins. Yes, this was a time before witches and wizards held all the magic._  
  
_Paracelsus knew from a young age that he wanted to figure out the mysteries of the world. He wanted to understand how and why humans could do things others couldn’t. Why were some as quick as horses? Or others able to communicate with animals? Paracelsus wanted to know._  
  
_There were many theories but he wasn’t satisfied with them. He wanted proof. So he searched and after years of research, he discovered magic. He didn’t have much magic for himself so he worked on getting more as he wrote down his experiments and proven theories.”_  
  
_“What were they Louis? His experiments?”_  
  
_“Uh, too complicated for you,” He answers quickly. He’d asked Veronica the same thing once and she’d gleefully given him descriptions of things that gave him nightmares for weeks. When he’d complained, his mother had showed him Paracelsus’s scrolls to prove his sister wrong; they’d given him headaches, “Let’s continue._  
  
_He found a way to gain more power and he officially became the first wizard in history._  
  
_But he still wasn’t satisfied with what he had. He thought if he continued to amass magic, he’d be able to cure the world of its problems such as illness, hatred and even death._  
  
_His project attracted many researchers and after many months, he tried an experiment._  
  
_It went horribly wrong. Paracelsus was destroyed during it and when the storm it had created finally calmed down, they found his remains. France was plagued by all sorts of cataclysms such as illnesses no-one had seen until then or winters that lasted much longer than normal._  
  
_When the world seemed to have finally returned to normal, they realised that wasn’t the case. Magic didn’t belong to everyone anymore; witches and wizards only possessed it though they got rarer over time. Astermite and all of its different forms now existed. And so did vampires._  
  
_With that, the first age came to an end and the second one started.”_  


***

Their last seven days in Altus has the Fellowship separated and Louis completely alone. Though most of that is his fault since he’s constantly avoiding his people who are bent on making him give up the idea of leaving. He’d be impressed and touched by their amount of concern (though part it is out of fear towards Veronica) if it weren’t for the fact it’s frankly getting annoying.  
  
He finds it strange that Altus is so empty as he wanders aimlessly down its marbled corridors. The birds have stopped singing in the trees and there is no eager chattering in the halls. It is, he supposes, the end of an age after all.  
  
The Fellowship’s members are also responsible for his solitude. Roland and Astolfo have the same problem as him so they tend to also escape to who-knows-where in order to avoid their teammates’ chidings.  
  
Olivier spends his days at the forge in company with Chloé and the remnants of Joyeuse. The one time Louis poked his head in, he was greeted by a powerful gust of heat, the sound of soft music and Chloé telling him to get out now before he ruins everything.  
  
Vanitas has seemingly locked himself up in his room (Louis says seemingly because he’s certain he isn’t there; he hears no heartbeat) which is a shame because Louis actually likes him and his twisted ways. If he were a romantic, he’d say there was a true communion of souls. Except he isn’t that and that at first glance, the human had just looked like a pawn to him. One that could be moved about according to his whims and wishes. But then Vanitas had spoken and Louis had been reminded that pawns can turn into any piece then want when reaching the other side. And only after having beaten any obstacle thrown in their way.  
  
Noé is with Teacher far too often for Louis’ liking and constantly looks worried about something. Louis refuses to pry. He would have done so ten years ago but a long time has passed since and Noé isn’t the same vampire he could tease mercilessly (well, he still can, just in different ways).  
  
As for the dhams, who know where they are. Louis doesn’t intend to find out. They’re easy to get along with but they creep him out and it’s probably because of their heritage (he isn’t going to lie, the De Sade Regency isn’t as accepting as Averoigne). But there’s also something about those two that doesn’t feel right and he hopes whatever it is they’re planning is harmless (unless it’s aimed at the enemy).  
  
He pushes the doors open to the library with the firm intent of getting a book and letting his mind wander away from all that’s happening around him, as he used to do on stormy nights, when he notices Olivier browsing the shelves.  
  
Oh no. Olivier is currently the last person he wants to be alone with right now. Save Astolfo. And Veronica. (He really hopes those two never meet.)  
  
Louis attempts leaving as quietly as possible but Olivier turns around.  
  
“Oh, Louis.” Olivier says.  
  
“My king.” Louis bows at the waist. There’s a pregnant pause.  
  
“…Never do that again.” Olivier pinches the bridge of his nose.  
  
“You’re right,” He squirms, “That was horrible.”  
  
“Because you don’t think of me as the rightful heir? Or something else?” Since Louis is heir to the regency, it’s only natural that he’d be opposed to his arrival. It doesn’t irk Olivier as much as it should.  
  
“Look, I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t know you. Nor do I care for you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing. I don’t think you’re qualified to be king.”  
  
“I know I have flaws!” Olivier snaps before he can help himself, “Including my temper!”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about that,” Louis barks a laugh, “But you have Veronica to convince and that, is no easy task. She’s not a big fan of humans, even more if they’re men and even more if they’re Chasseurs. As an added bonus, you’re from Charlemagne’s bloodline. And I’m with her on this one, (he leans in close) your lineage was cursed with the temptation to take the Book. How long will you resist it, I wonder?” Olivier glowers at him.  
  
“The same could be said for you, vampire. You don’t scare me, Monsieur de Sade,” Louis doesn’t know it but his way of smiling whilst threatening him reminds Olivier too much of Roland, “But you’re a pain.”  
  
“Well, it will just be a race to see which of the two of us gets tempted first, won’t it? My money’s on you,” Louis grabs a book and sits down, “Now, shouldn’t you be in the forge? Or is Chloé doing all the work?”  
  
“Tch,” He starts to turn away, “The dhams came to the forge. Chloé’s occupied with them.”  


***

The morning of their departure, they all meet in front of Altus’ gates. Everyone seems to have slept well though the bags under Vanitas’ eyes persist in existing. Noé heard him wake up before dawn as he turned over in his own bed; it’s the equivalent of a good night’s sleep to him. Unlike most of the others, Vanitas has had no big change made to his clothes outside of modifying his belt to add the daggers. His coat pockets make clinking sounds when he moves and when Noé asks, he mentions having potions; sometimes, Noé forgets he was studying to be a doctor before. It feels like his whole life has was always revolved around Vanitas and the Book.  
  
The Chasseurs have barely changed, their weapons wrapped in cloth or sheathed. No-one except Chloé has had the chance to see Olivier’s new sword, Hauteclaire but it looks impressive at his side.  
  
Louis, normally dressed in the colours of the regency-gold, white and black-has transitioned to a palette of greens and browns, his broadsword sheathed at his side and a longbow on his back. He and Olivier keep exchanging glances that Noé doesn’t understand.  
  
Chloé is walking normally again and all bandages on her person have disappeared. Her new staff, whittled into shape after the other was left and probably broken at the Tower of the Sun, shines in the early sunlight. When she turns to pick Riche’s glasses off her face and enchant them to resist most damage, he sees that under her long, grey cape, there’s a sword (adapted to her size) at her waist.  
  
Dante and Riche have also gotten new clothes similar in appearance with red velvet lining the inside of their sleeves. Noé finally understands why they spend so much time with Nox and Manet, they must have helped. Not that Nox and Manet aren’t lovely vampires; he just finds them somewhat intimidating. They both have short swords but Riche also has a bow and quiver strapped to her back whilst Dante carries something angular also wrapped in cloth that smells of wood. When prompted, he grins proudly and says:  
  
“Got myself a crossbow. The old witch (Chloé’s features settle into a smile that is too stiff to be true) was even kind to enchant it so they’d hit any target!”  
  
“Most targets, child,” Chloé corrects him, “And it works better if they’re still.”  
  
“Sounds like baldy will need that often,” Vanitas comments snidely and Noé sees the same thought flash through the Chasseurs’ and Louis’ heads: I really hope this is the Book’s influence. Everyone else knows it isn’t. Vanitas woke up cranky and a cranky Vanitas means taking it out on everyone around him. Noé does find that side of him funny because teasing him is easy but not when there are others around. Especially new people unused to his particular temperament. Olivier has fortunately (or unfortunately) already adapted to him.  
  
“You say that now but you’ll be singing a different song when I save your miserable life, quack!” Dante retorts and the two resolve to their usual game of poking and prodding at each other. Noé and Riche make eye contact and sigh.  
  
“Say Noé,” Roland grabs him by the arm so he can pull him away. Louis does the same on the other side, clearly curious. Olivier joins Roland’s other side and Astolfo edges slightly towards them so he can listen in. Noé’s trapped, “What’s the relationship between those two?” Noé briefly panics, registers Roland’s words and calms down. He was expecting something much worse even though he doesn’t know what. Still, he doesn’t want to be the one to answer that.  
  
Chloé glances over her shoulder at their huddled group and he tries to convey some sort of message by staring intensely at her. She smiles, gives him a little wave as if to say ‘play nice, children’ and turns away. Noé gives in and explains how they were childhood friends.  
  
“Were?” Louis presses but Noé shakes his head. That’s not up to him to say.  
He’s saved from answering any other questions by Orlok walking in, followed by Manet and Nox, one holding Murr and the other leading two chestnut horses carrying their food supply.  
  
“Good morning to all of you,” Orlok booms and they all mumble something back, “I see you’re all prepared. Good.” Nox gives one of the horses’ reins to Louis and after a moment of consideration, gives the other to Astolfo. Murr jumps out of Manet’s arms and twines around Noé’s ankles.  
  
“Your teacher shoved him at me. He said there’d come a time where he’d be helpful.” Manet explains as Murr scales Noé to settle on his shoulder.  
  
“Some of you may have been expecting me to give you a heart-warming speech but I am not one for sentimentality. You are the ones who can either save or doom the world. It’s all up to you. Good luck.” And with those not-at-all-pressuring words, they are unceremoniously booted out of Altus. 


	9. A Shadow From The Past

Their first few days are calmer than what Noé expected but he welcomes it with open arms. Thanks to Vanitas’ well-founded paranoia, he’s been expecting Astolfo to murder someone or for someone to murder Astolfo. Fortunately, that hasn’t happened yet. _Yet._  
  
Their days are long and their nights feel even longer for those standing watch. Or chronic insomniacs such as Vanitas. They’re all nervous at Chloé’s plan which consists of passing through the Gévaudan mountains that cross through France until they arrive to the De Sade Regency (Olivier scowls but says nothing). Then, they should be able to get new supplies and make their way to the Land of the Blue Moon.  
  
Their first few days are spent in an awkward silence what with half of the members not knowing each other. But the ice eventually thaws and they start talking to each other with more ease.  
  
“Hey Chloé,” Dante calls one day as they start the gruelling work of going up the side of the mountain to the main path through small narrow trails barely large enough for the horses. Murr looks at them with scorn before hitching a ride on Noé’s shoulder, “Why are you wearing a dress? We’re on a trip to the end of France here. Even ugly here (“Shut it fatso!”) is wearing our unif-I mean the appropriate clothes.” Dante stumbles over the last few words, something everyone notices.  
  
“It’s one of my favourites,” She replies pleasantly, “And I enchanted it. Just like Riche’s glasses.” Dante nods slowly then freezes when Roland amicably throws an arm around his shoulder. It’s a dangerous move as the path they’re on isn’t made for two people walking side by side.  
  
“What was that about a uniform?” Roland asks, “I wasn’t aware Averoigne had a military.”  
  
“There is no military in Averoigne,” Dante sighs “Ugly and I were thinking about starting our own thing. Trading information. There’s a whole market out there and no-one’s taking advantage of it.”  
  
“Just the two of you?” Roland asks, genuine curiosity in his eyes. Dante looks at him inquisitively; people in Averoigne don’t generally care about their projects. And when he means people in Averoigne, he means his family.  
  
“We would have liked there to be a third person but it’s not like either side of our families are going to help,” Riche rolls her eyes from ahead, “We’re dhams after all.” From behind Roland and Dante, Louis stares intensely at the ground as he leads one of the horses, shame and guilt gnawing at his insides. It’s the same intense emotions that he’d felt the day he’d teased Noé too much and made him cry. He can feel Domi’s furious glare on his back and he decides to spend more time with the dhams the moment he can. It’s going to be a long trip, they can’t remain strangers.  


***

Louis gets to set in action his plan of ‘befriending the dhams’ when they decide to settle for the night despite it only being late afternoon. Apart from Astolfo, none of them are used to mountainous areas and Chloé and Vanitas still have lingering magical injuries. They may be trying to hide it but everyone has seen them wince at a moment or two. The baking heat doesn’t help anyone either.

It’s a large, flat piece of rock covered in boulders of varying size and overlooking the valley they’d been trekking through previously. It’s the landmark marking the beginning of the path that they should be following for the next few days, distinguished by its rough engraving of the sun. Chloé passes her hand over it, dislodging dirt and dust, she was there when it was made.

Louis feeds the horse he was handed (which he’s privately nicknamed Éclair due to the lightning-shaped mark on its flank) and unloads some of its weight. Astolfo does the same further away. Murr drops from Noé’s shoulder and stretches.

“Hey you two,” The dhams turn around as one, “Do you know how to use those?” He points at their short swords.

“Kind of?” Dante shrugs nonchalantly. Louis does not trust that answer and extends the offer of teaching them. The dhams look at each other and agree.

“Excellent idea Louis!” Roland claps his hands together, “It’ll help us train as well!” There’s a general sound of agreement and they all pair up. Noé sits out, someone needs to prepare dinner after all. Besides, they’re all amazing people and he entertains himself by watching them.

Everyone has their own fighting style, he realises with wonder as he watches Louis teach Dante and Riche how to guard in large and grand movements. He knocks their swords out of their hands almost instantly. Before he can berate them (Noé has a flashback to when Louis taught him how to dance and smiles in sympathy), Riche kicks him in the shins and Dante tackles him to the ground. Louis bursts out laughing and the cousins soon join in. The other groups pause to look at them before focusing on their own, more serious fights.

Olivier’s sword strikes are clean and precise whilst Vanitas, his current sparring opponent, seems to be lost in thought, his answering hits mechanical like a well-oiled machine as he scans the environment. Probably looking for something he can use against him and Noé is proven right when he takes a fall, grabs a handful of dirt and throws it in Olivier’s eyes. He splutters out a curse but quickly overwhelms Vanitas once he regains his sight. Hauteclaire really is a frightening weapon.

Noé’s attention turns to Astolfo and Roland who are also fighting though Roland seems to be having more fun with it than Astolfo who’s visibly gritting his teeth in anger. His attacks are violent in nature but they don’t seem to have much weight compared to Roland’s. He makes up for it by trying to lure him by leaving openings. It doesn’t really work against Roland and his flashy yet efficient style but he puts up a good fight.

Noé is impressed by all of them and he stares, in awe at their skill. Chloé chuckles next to him at his wide, starry eyes as she strokes Murr; she’s probably the only person he appreciates. She isn’t fighting, her excuse being that she’s either too old or too young for this sort of thing.

There’s the sound of wings flapping in the air and he turns his head to see a murder of crows in the distance.

“Chloé, are they your friends?” He points at them with a large smile. She gets to her feet and squints to see them.

“It’s a rather large murder, isn’t it?” She makes a non-committal noise and they both watch it get closer in silence. The fading sunlight shines brightly on their wings and they look at each other, “That’s not normal, is it?”

“Hide!” Chloé yells and everyone else freezes, “Now!” They all scrabble in different directions to find some sort of hiding place. Dante and Riche are the first to manage to crawl in an interstice between two boulders, Murr following them. Noé grabs Vanitas’ wrist-Chloé said he was to protect him, it’s his duty, he can’t let him put himself in danger anymore-and imitates them.

The sharp edges of the boulder dig into his back and scrape his hand. He grimaces and so does Vanitas. There’s a popping sound in his ears as Chloé shrouds them and the horses with her magic.

The crows descend with raucous and discordant cawing. Their talons rake against the ground, creating sparks. Now that they’re close, he can see that they’re made of a silvery metal, every feather carefully crafted, their beaks sharp and cruel, and their empty eyes glinting with murderous intent.

The murder passes, their screeching fading, but one remains behind perched on the rock under which he saw Olivier and Roland go. It preens at its feathers, as if it were real, before glancing around, craning its neck. It looks him straight in the eye and Noé gulps. His fight or flight instincts are starting to kick in and his fangs poke at his lower lip.

Vanitas grabs his hand, having seen his eyes light up red in the semi-darkness, and Noé remembers that Chloé hid them. Vanitas squeezes his hand, to ask him if he’s alright, and he squeezes back. They don’t let go.

The bird hops closer to them, emitting a series of complicated clicks and whirs. It pauses, inches away from their faces, and takes off. Noé suddenly learns how to breathe again.

He makes a movement as if to get down but Vanitas’ grip on his hand increases painfully and he pauses. The bird swoops down again and upon seeing nothing has changed, it leaves, this time for good. They still wait for a few minutes before crawling out and Vanitas lets go of his hand. There’s a crackling sound as Chloé lifts her camouflage. Astolfo and Louis go and calm down the horses.

“What were those?” Dante grips Riche’s sleeve tightly. There are fresh scratches on his face from having pushed Murr out and the cat glares at him.

“They weren’t Charlatan, that’s for sure. I would have known.” Vanitas means the Book but he unconsciously places a hand over his scar. Noé can’t help but think about his mark.

“They must be looking for us. The magic surrounding them felt like Faustina’s,” Chloé’s brow furrows, “Metal magic and cheap imitation is her style.” There’s something to be said about bitterness here but none of them are brave enough to say it.

“Should we stay here? If they come back, they might spot us. And Myrtille might get spooked and run away.” Astolfo strokes his horse’s nose in a reassuring way. No-one comments on the fact that he named the horse either though Roland and Vanitas seem tempted.

“I doubt they’ll come back. But I can place another spell to hide us at night if it reassures everyone.” They all nod and settle back down, expecting shadowy wings to blot out the sun at any moment. They don’t come.  


***

Noé is in love with the Gévaudan Mountains. He found them beautiful from a distance and up closer, he’s even more awed by them. The views are breath-taking and if he were an artist and not going on a journey to save the world, he’d willingly sit and paint them for hours.

The path Chloé leads them on follows the mountain, ascending at times before plunging downwards, and he admires every second of it especially since they sometimes go high enough to encounter snow. He’s ecstatic.

The fact that they’re always on the lookout for Faustina’s birds, rendered paranoid from their first encounter, dampens his mood but never for too long. He trusts his vampire instincts to hear them before they’re spotted.

Vanitas seems doubtful when he tells him so but doesn’t comment. It’s different from his attitude in Averoigne where he would directly tell him what he thought of his ideas but Noé doesn’t think of it as an improvement. He’s often lost in thought and detached from the world. Noé finds himself wondering about what. Something tells him it involves how they held hands whilst hiding from the birds. He remembers all too well how Vanitas shifted away from him as they got out from underneath the rocks, his eyes searching for anything to latch onto but Noé. He knows well Vanitas doesn’t like getting attached to anyone but in the current situation they’re in, he doesn’t really have a choice. He’s just being stubborn, Noé concludes.

A strong gust whistles around the side of the mountain, something Murr doesn’t appreciate as he hisses as it ruffles their hair. It’s cold, stinging their faces and making their eyes water. A snowflake floats down in front of him, held aloft by the wind. They’re already wading in ankle-deep snow and it won’t be good for their progress if it starts snowing. Maybe if it’s light, it’ll be alright.

It isn’t alright. Almost moments after he thinks so, a blizzard hits them. Snow starts falling in an endless shower, the harsh wind scratching at their exposed skin and pulling at their clothes.

“Wha-? How did we not see that coming?” Astolfo’s words are snatched away by the wind the moment they’re out of his mouth. Noé barely hears him but that’s only because Astolfo’s directly behind him (something that has made him very nervous) and has his vampire hearing. As he strains his ears to hear the youngest paladin, he hears something else.

“Is that someone singing?” Noé shouts loud enough so he can be heard. The rhythmic feminine chanting blends in almost perfectly with the howling wind. Everyone strains their ears but only Louis and the cousins can hear it.

Chloé slams her staff on the ground and there’s a flash of light that blinds them all momentarily. When they recover, nothing has changed.

“It’s Faustina!” She cries, “She’s blocking my magic!” The snow is already at her knees and she pulls out her staff to give it an experimental twirl.

“What are you _doing?”_ Olivier yells from the back as he tries to shovel snow out of the way with Hauteclaire. It isn’t very efficient-and Dante and Riche who are closest to him look terrified at the sight of the saw-like weapon- but Astolfo pulls out Louisette and Roland, at the front, splits Durandal in two to imitate him.

“Trying to undo her spell!” A faint grey light shines around Chloé as she concentrates, “Stop the others from dying!” She pokes Louis with her staff and with a disgruntled sigh, he picks her up. She can’t do anything whilst countering Faustina and he’s a vampire meaning he’s stronger and can carry her for longer. He’s gotten used to doing it over the past few days, the nightly shrouding spells tiring her.

“Quack!” Dante hollers and Noé turns around. Vanitas is frozen, eyes wide with shock as he stares at the snow-covered ground. His scarf bats wildly in the wind. One of his hands is also drifting towards the back of his cloak and before anyone else can notice, Noé grabs him by the wrist and pulls him closer so he’s sheltered slightly by the ledge above them. His hand pauses but he doesn’t snap out of the stupor he’s been sent into. Noé chooses to carry him and Vanitas’ eyes shift to him. He doesn’t protest. (Murr does, digging himself further into Noé’s scarf.)

At a snail’s pace, they advance, Roland clearing the path ahead with difficulty. The gusts of stinging snowflakes lessens long enough for him to notice that he is about to walk off the edge and he warns them of the danger. Noé glances over his shoulder to see if the others heard and sees that Dante has a firm grip on Riche and Riche has one on Astolfo who doesn’t look as bothered as Noé thought he would be.

There’s a loud rumbling sound from above and they all press themselves against the cliff as large boulders come tumbling down.

“Please tell me that was you.” Louis mutters.

“Unfortunately not.” Chloé breaks her trance to reply and closes her eyes again. She raises her arms up and starts chanting in a language none of them know or recognize. Grey light shines through her eyelids.

There’s a crackle in the air and lightning starts falling all around them with large claps of thunder that make Louis and Noé jump at the sounds. There’s a crashing sound as lightning strikes above them and Noé barely avoids being crushed by a miniature avalanche. Dante lets out a strangled cry as he, Riche, Astolfo and Olivier are separated from them.

“What are you _doing?!”_ Louis yells this time. Chloé either doesn’t hear them or ignores them.

“It’s music,” Vanitas sits up straighter in Noé’s arms or at least attempts to, “That was just an unfortunate side-effect.” The glow behind Chloé’s eyes becomes brighter and almost painful to look at. Noé would have liked to shield his eyes but he can only look away.

The storm and snow stop at the same time as if they had never existed at all. The silence they leave is deafening and Chloé breaks it by making a choking sound and starting to writhe in Louis’ arms. She clutches at her throat and he struggles to not let go of or hurt her.

Vanitas leaps out of Noé’s arms and goes to her side as quickly as he can. He lifts one of her eyelids; her eyes are glassy and are turning black at the edges.

“What should we do?” Roland comes back and they gather around her.

“I…don’t know.” Vanitas admits and he moves his hand to her neck to feel her pulse. She jerks away from his touch and emits one last cough before sitting up in a startled way that almost makes them think she’s been hit by her own lightning had it not stopped.

A wisp of black smoke leaves her body and circles around them before hovering away. Under their astonished eyes, it sprouts arms that end in clawed hands and grows a head that keeps changing shape. Its eyes, round like mirrors and devoid of pupils or irises, are cracked around the edges. They remind Noé too much about Vanitas’ mark.

“What are you?” He asks and Louis sets Chloé down (she leans heavily on Roland) before unsheathing his sword. His hand trembles slightly.

_“Where-? Oh, I know this place,”_ It says in a soft, eerie feminine voice, _“And I know all of you though most of you don’t know me.”_

“What are you?” Noé repeats, incredulous.

_“My name,”_ She tilts her head to the side, _“is Naenia.”_

“Whose side are you on?” Roland asks her next, ready to pass the drowsy Chloé to Vanitas in case there’s any danger.

_“Charlatan’s of course!”_ She grins widely, her smile stretching up to her eyes.

“Then I’m sorry to say that we have to kill you.” Vanitas catches Chloé as Roland charges. Naenia dances out of Durandal’s way but it extends as Roland swings and passes through her body as if she didn’t exist. Reluctantly, Vanitas lunges to grab the back of his clothes and stop him from falling off the side of the mountain.

_“We’ll see who kills who,”_ Naenia grins and points upwards. There’s a loud rumbling sound above and Vanitas jerks Roland backwards just in time to avoid the large clump of snow that threatened to pull him down into emptiness, _“Too late.”_ The following avalanche buries them all, including Dante’s side. Naenia disappears with a satisfied grin.  


***

All Vanitas feels is cold. It seeps into his bones and bites at his fingers. He tries to move them but they barely twitch. It feels like something is pressing down on him.

_What happened?_ He thinks blearily before he remembers and his thoughts start bouncing around faster than ever.

There was an avalanche. He can hear or see nothing. Most logical conclusion, he’s trapped in it and so are the others. How long has he been there? Are the others awake? Are they even alive?

No, he has to focus on himself. He needs to give himself air first. With slow, numbed movements, he manages to move his hands and digs the snow away from his face.

Is he injured? It doesn’t feel like it so he continues.

Now, he needs to figure out if he’s facing up or down. If there’s any way he can dig himself out, he cannot do it the wrong way. He spits, or more accurately, dribbles down the side of his face. Perfect, he’s already facing up.

Like an old dog, he paws at the snow ceiling above him. It doesn’t give. Unwillingly, his breath hitches and he has to force himself to calm down. He can’t allow himself to panic. Someone will come and get him.

“Will they though?” Misha whispers in his ear and he stiffens, “Why would they? You broke _our_ promise, why wouldn’t they break theirs? Wouldn’t it be easier to take the Book from your dead, useless body?”

Vanitas make a strangled sound in the back of his throat. His heart beats in his throat at too rapid a pace and he has to swallow to stop himself from hyperventilating.

He feels Misha’s presence fade, leaving him more exhausted than he already is.

He tries to keep track of how much time has passed but he keeps losing count and it seems to him that it passes at a snail’s crawl. His consciousness keeps wavering and he has to fight to stay awake. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood but it doesn’t work.

The walls press down, closing in on him. He knows it’s just an impression, caused by his air supply slowly running out but he can’t manage to convince himself of it. He can’t even feel the stinging cold anymore. He closes his eyes, getting drowsier and drowsier by the second.

He’s eleven years old again, strapped to a surface sticky with his blood. He stares at the ceiling, his face carefully blank even as his left arm throbs dully with pain. There’s a stray tear on his cheek and he turns his face to hide it when he hears familiar humming come near him. He can’t show weakness now, not at the beginning of this nightmare. Doctor Moreau’s hand strokes his cheek with fondness and his skin crawls with repulsion. He fights to hide his disgust and keeps his eyes on the flickering light above.

“Dear, oh my, we can’t have you die here, can we?” Moreau sings. He barely moves but Moreau’s next words send ice in his veins, “Especially since you’re my new favourite.” Bile rises in the back of his throat and he forces it back down.

“Of course Doctor!” He smiles brightly as the leather cuffs come off. He tries to sit up but he’s too lightheaded so he remains lying.

“You’re a valuable experiment after all, aren’t you Vanitas?” He blinks. That isn’t his name yet and it definitely isn’t what Moreau calls him. He’s just a number, a blank face doomed to be added to the pile of bodies Moreau leaves in his wake, “Vanitas!” Moreau’s voice turns into someone else’s, familiar yet unrecognizable.

“What?” He mumbles numbly. His lip hurts and his body tingles with warmth, something that shouldn’t be happening in this cold, dismal place. Two hands grab his shoulders and pull him up.

“Vanitas!” They cry again. He blinks and the world comes back in startling clarity.

“What?” He asks and Noé softens the crushing grip on his shoulders.

“What kind of a face is that?” Noé has never seen Vanitas look this emotionally vulnerable, his eyes lost in the past.

“What?” He repeats and Noé’s lips turn down into a frown. It says a lot about Vanitas’ current mental health that he doesn’t immediately assess the situation or pick at Noé’s question like an angry bird. He unconsciously mirrors Noé’s expression and a spark of lucidity returns in his gaze, “Noé?”

“Are you hurt?” Vanitas wipes at his bloodied lip and shakes his head. Noé looks away, ignoring how enticing it smells; it is after all, the blood that allowed him to find out where Vanitas was buried and dig him out.

“Quit daydreaming!” Dante snaps as he and Riche finally uncover Astolfo. They were the first one to be awake (something Noé supposes is due to the facts that dhampirs are more immune to magic and so to magically caused avalanches) and got out before getting him and Louis.

“Sorry!” He apologises and goes to them to pull out Astolfo. Dante splits away to help Louis who’s been searching on his own for Chloé and Roland. It takes a bit more strength to get Astolfo out but at least he’s in a better state than Vanitas. A better state being feeling murderous but only towards the avalanche. It’s an improvement from feeling murderous towards everyone.

“Over here!” Riche calls him over as she finds Olivier. She tugs on his hair, something he does not appreciate judging from the look on his face. He decides not to complain since she saved his life.

“Thank-”

“I can’t find them!” Louis interrupts Olivier. It’s almost like Chloé and Roland have disappeared from existence. He can’t even smell them and neither can anyone else.

“They weren’t very far from me.” Vanitas manages to say. He stumbles as he gets up and Noé puts a hand on his back to steady him. He keeps a hand on his left arm and Noé wonders what happened to him whilst he was buried.

“But they could have been dragged away.” Louis digs at snow with his bare hands, his sword having been ripped from his belt. There’s something frantic about his gestures and Noé has to refrain from shuddering; it reminds him too much of Louis whittling stake after stake incessantly day after day.

Olivier lets out a long string of curses. His hand flies to Hauteclaire and comes back empty. It’s gone. He kneels next to Louis and helps him. The others do the same. They’re on a time limit. Chloé might be able to survive a long period in there but Roland’s human.

Vanitas scowls and joins them, despite how he feels towards Roland, he can’t let him die. Even Astolfo helps though his expression suggests that the first person to say so will take Louisette to the throat. Wait- where’s Louisette? Olivier doesn’t have Hauteclaire, Louis is missing his sword and-his belt is empty. His daggers are gone. The Book is gone.

He sprints away back to where he was buried despite everyone yelling at him. He claws at the depths of his former prison, desperation etched into his features. His fingers find something that isn’t snow and he leans forwards dangerously to get a proper grip on it. Its sharp corners dig into the palm of his hand; it has to be the Book. He pulls it out with a sigh of relief.

_Maybe if I use it, I can get Chloé and Roland out. After all, Naenia knows where we are. What harm can it do?_ The thought passes through his mind and he passes his hand over the cover. It unlocks.

“Vanitas, what are you-” Noé calls and is interrupted by Dante shrieking loudly as a pale-almost bloodless- hand reaches through the snow and grabs him by the ankle. Looking rather disgruntled, Chloé hoists herself out and dusts herself off.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Help Monsieur Fortis out,” She orders when they don’t react, “He’s right next to me. Naenia sent some rocks in his direction. Don’t be afraid if he doesn’t react, I had to protect us.”

Vanitas locks the Book and joins them again. Noé sends him an inquisitive look but he shakes his head imperceptibly. Louis and Olivier manage to drag Roland out and they all discover that ‘protecting’ for Chloé means sending into a deep sleep.

“Your incessant yelling and thundering around woke me up,” She yawns then leans and wakes Roland up with a spark from her fingertips, “Are you alright?” Roland takes a few moments to assess the situation and nods. Before he can be questioned about abandoning them, Vanitas speaks up:

“Naenia knows why we’re here. But she doesn’t know which one of us has the Book.” He explains Naenia to those who weren’t there and how their weapons were dispersed. That way, she’d be sure to make him lose the Book instead of guessing which one of them had it and getting it wrong.

“So that’s why you went back!” Noé exclaims, linking the dots together. Vanitas nods.

“Hmpf,” There’s a haughty expression on Chloé’s face as she raises a hand in the air. There’s a low humming in the air and they all cringe in preparation of a new thunderstorm. The ground rumbles under their feet and their weapons are pulled out of the avalanche and are pulled to Chloé, Hauteclaire almost beheading Louis, “There you go.” Chloé says and nearly crumples with fatigue. She leans on her staff and manages to stay upright.

“Are you alright?” Noé asks.

“Today,” She sighs, “has a taken a lot out of me. The sooner we rest, the better.”

“We’re on a completely different path now,” Astolfo remarks, “And that Naenia creature (his knuckles turn white as he grips Louisette) is probably still lurking around.”

“As well as Faustina. I wasn’t aware of a ‘Naenia’ before.” Chloé muses.

“You can think about that later,” Dante peels himself from the mountain’s side that he’d been sticking against, mentally preparing for more hands to grab his ankles, “Where should we go?”

“I’ve been here before,” Astolfo says, “We can either continue here but we’ll end on the edge of Oriflammes territory, too close to the Parade. Or, alternatively, we continue here for a while then head for the Gévaudan’s mines.”

“The mines were closed a long time ago due to being invaded by vampires loyal to Vanitas of the Blue Moon’s cause.” Chloé pulls a face.

“Fierabras and his group of Chasseurs went to take them back,” Astolfo retorts, “They’re the better option.”

“Vanitas, the choice should be yours.” Chloé says and they both stare at him. He sighs, discomfort written all over his face.

“The mines aren’t linked to the Catacombs, right?” Vanitas asks Chloé but it’s Astolfo who answers:

“Not anymore, they were sealed up back when the mines were invaded and more recently when the Chasseurs raided Moreau’s laboratory. Do you know who Moreau is?” Everyone nods, much to the Chasseurs’ surprise, except for Louis who shakes his head. Roland picks up the story which makes Astolfo frown darkly.

The Catacombs were always a bit more…loose on the vampire hunting rules. If a non-curse bearer was killed during a hunt, they turned a blind eye. Even if it could have caused a new war. If I remember correctly, they conducted illegal vampire hunts and pretended a terrible Beast was the one behind the killings. Moreau was a researcher and the Catacombs’ Chasseurs gave him their protection in exchange of his research on vampires and so their weaknesses. But he became obsessed by his work and started human experiments with the intent of creating vampires. No matter how unethical the Catacomb Chasseurs were, the moment they caught wind of that, they raided his laboratory; however, all of his test subjects died and according to some of the Chasseurs’ testimony, there were other things down there. Shadowy things that weren’t Chasseurs.” He finishes darkly.

“It was Naenia.” Vanitas says and everyone turns towards him. He also looks surprised at his statement as if he wasn’t expecting to say that. Chloé, Dante, Noé and Riche exchange panicked glances.

“How do you know that?” Louis asks, still horrified by Roland’s story.

“When we sparred,” Olivier muses, “You fought like a Chasseur.” The panicked glances increase and all they can do is watch as Vanitas sighs and says emotionlessly:

“Moreau wanted to create a vampire so he could become one. In his opinion, vampires are superior to humans. When my parents were killed by a vampire, the Chasseurs took me in. And Moreau noticed me. I became one of his experiments. Naenia didn’t come just for Moreau’s research-because I definitely saw her take some of his papers-but for the Book. Whilst he was expanding his laboratory, he found it. During the raid, Naenia-as well as the infamous Monsieur Spider now that I think about it- snuck in and tried to take it. During the chaos, I got free, stole the Book before them and snuck out which is where Chloé found me. We’ll go through the mines. Astolfo, lead the way.” He closes up, leaving the Chasseurs and Louis astonished. His lack of feeling at the whole ordeal is possibly the most horrifying part; Noé’s stomach still twists into knots upon hearing him recount it.

He remembers the first time he’d heard it (minus the implications of Moreau finding the Book). Teacher had been the one to tell him and Noé had started crying. He’d hid that fact from Vanitas for ages since he disliked him enough but keeping secrets from Vanitas was hard and he’d eventually found out. He hadn’t been pleased but after time, the whole of Montmartre had found out about his past and he had had to stop holding a grudge against Noé.

“Why do you talk about Moreau in present tense?” Louis asks after what feels like an unending silence.

“Because the Chasseurs never captured him.” Vanitas ignores the image of Moreau skittering away into the darkness as he hides, clutching the Book tightly to his chest. He’s always dismissed it as some sort of hallucination from blood loss but perhaps, after all this time, it had been real.


	10. Chloé and the Riddle

Chloé remembers all too well the Gévaudan mines’ rise and fall. The first tunnels had started being dug when she was just a girl, unaware of her witch powers. She’d heard of the project, her father being the main instigator in its creation, but she didn’t know much. Then Faustina had showed up and after many conversations convincing her family, had whisked her away to teach her magic. Those had been simpler times, before the War, before Faustina’s betrayal. She missed them.  
  
She’d come back once her apprenticeship was over,-centuries after the War-once she was a fully-fledged witch and had found out they’d converted the mines in a home. Not that the mines weren’t rich in metal or ores. They just provided a good shelter against the treacherous winter. She’d walked down the brightly illuminated halls, her footsteps echoing on the stone. She’d seen the dining halls, filled with laughter and the warm scent of cooking food. Children had run around, chasing each other with gleeful cries. They’d called her Grandmother.  
  
She’d left a safe haven and come back to find it rampant with evil. These vampires were not only loyal to the Blue Moon, some of them were curse bearers. She’d managed to destroy most of them but had been overwhelmed and forced to leave. She had failed in her mission. The guilt of having let down all of Gévaudan’s citizens still tears at her conscience. But she couldn’t do it.  
  
She bites her lip, conflicted. Finding out if the Fierabras and his Chasseurs managed to purge Gévaudan would be informative but she doesn’t want to encounter other people. They might not mean to betray them but they might disclose information about them to others, potentially enemies.  
  
She glances at the group behind her and sighs in defeat. The avalanche has all shaken them though they try to hide it. They managed to recover Myrtille, still fully loaded somehow, but not Éclair. As if he’d disappeared off of the surface of the world. Along with half of their food. This quest is not starting out well.  
  
To distract herself, she focuses on Naenia. She mentioned specifically being on Charlatan’s side, not the Blue Moon’s. What does that mean? Is Charlatan planning to turn on Vanitas? Why? They were corrupted in order to serve her not the opposite. Is Naenia Charlatan’s new leader? Is that why she said that? No, she can’t be. The Averoigne group and Olivier didn’t recognize her.  
  
She resists the urge to scream and slam her head against the mountain side. It’s not the moment to have a breakdown about Naenia. This distraction only made her more frustrated that she already is.  
  
She passes a hand through her hair to try untangling it. She thinks about Naenia’s clawed fingers and unconsciously clenches her fist, accidentally creating more knots. Right behind her, Dante and Riche clutch at each other’s arms and send each other the same look: _What are we doing here?_ If the oldest and most powerful member is visibly unnerved, what chance do they have?  
  
The snow crunches under Chloé’s feet, becoming brittle and thin until it vanishes and she lets out a sigh of relief. Looking like a child is often a disadvantage and snow is one of them. The blizzard would have been a nightmare for her had Louis not been holding her up; she would have been buried long before the avalanche.  
  
Gravel replaces the snow and the path slopes downwards into mist. She remembers all too well how it was before, lanterns illuminating the way with their soft light. The lanterns have been gone for a long time, their flames extinguished. She grinds her heels against the gravel, listening to its quiet screeching as she walks; it helps ground her in the present.  
  
The mist clings to her, draping its cold, damp self on every surface. The tendrils swirl around her ankles and she aims a small kick at them. They recoil then come back towards her. It thickens to the point where she can barely see Astolfo and Myrtille ahead of her. She can hear Dante mumbling a few curses behind her, clearly unnerved by this predicament.  
  
The mist clears after a few minutes and they arrive to a gravelly beach. The moon shines on a small lake whose surface is so still Chloé almost mistakes it for a giant mirror. Myrtille shirks away from it, whinnying softly. They stop in front of a large stone wall.  
  
“So, what next?” Louis yawns, revealing his fangs. Olivier automatically leans away from him and he notices, “I’m tired, not thirsty. I don’t have a dependence on blood.” His fangs retract.  
  
“That’s the extent of my knowledge.” Astolfo admits and everyone looks at Vanitas. He shakes his head, he entered by the Catacombs and those are sealed up.  
  
“I’m not senile yet,” She reminds them, “My father was behind all of this and if I remember the entrance was just about…_here.”_ She taps the rock with her staff.  
  
A grey light glows where her staff touched the stone and spreads across it, splitting into several branches until it outlines a door. It continues, creating a banner of flames and sparks amongst which is carved a sentence.  
  
_“O, où mettre la clé?”_ She reads aloud.  
  
“O, where to put the key?” Roland translates, “I don’t see how a key works on a door with no keyhole.”  
  
“It’s a riddle. The last time I came here, there were sentinels posted outside so there was no need for _this,”_ She waves a hand at the engravings then puts her pack down, “Settle down, we could be here for a long time.”  
  
“I’ll help,” Louis offers, “I’m good with solving riddles.” She gives him a brisk nod despite the protests of her bruised pride. The others find shelter underneath a ledge to be protected a minimum in case of a new avalanche. They put out their bedrolls to use as seats and practically fall to the ground. Upon realising they’re still alive, they start laughing, almost hysterically. Chloé smiles, at least they’re bonding. Louis glances in their direction as they prepare tonight’s meal.  
  
“Go eat,” Chloé nudges him, “You need your energy back.” In the end, he’s just a kid, he needs to relax after today’s ordeals. And she’s certain she can figure it out on her own.  
  
“But-”  
  
“No arguing, go.” She dismisses him. With an exaggerated sigh, he leaves (she pretends she didn’t see the small smile playing on his lips). There’s a small cheer as he joins them, sitting between Riche and Dante.  
  
Chloé sits in front of the door and starts meditating. Where to put the key? The most obvious answer is the keyhole but as Roland said, there is none on the door. Then what? Does she have to create her own? Or is there another drawing she has to find?  
  
She continues spiralling down the same type of thoughts for a long while until there’s the crunching sound of gravel underfoot and she hears Noé ask: “Do you want some food?”  
  
She gets up in one swift motion, bunching up her skirt in her hands, and aims a kick at a rock with all of her might. It goes flying into the lake where it sinks, breaking the too-still surface and sending ripples across it. Before she can think about the consequences of her actions, Louis asks:  
  
“Are you alright Chloé?” In response, she falls to her knees and buries her face in her hands, letting out a groan of frustration. There’s a long, grinding sound behind her and she whirls around only to watch in total stupefaction as the door swings inwards, revealing only a corridor of darkness.  
  
“What? How?” She splutters, rushing over and passing her hands over the invisible hinges. The rest of the Fellowship all stare at Noé who suddenly finds his shoes to be the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Louis crosses his arms and furrows his brow in concentration. After a minute or two, his face lights up with understanding.  
  
“Your father initiated the project, yes? (He continues before she can confirm.) Then your name was the password,” She stares at him, wide-eyed and confused, “So the riddle reads ‘O, where to put the key?’ But we’ve been reading it as it is in our language not Old French. It’s about sound. O, where to put the ‘clé’? If you put it around the ‘O’, it becomes ‘Clo-é’.” There’s the same grinding sound again as the door closes, almost on her fingers, “Uh, oops. Your father named it after you, Chloé.” The door opens.  
  
Her father had done that. The last time she’d seen her father had been when she’d left with Faustina. He’d thought about her, years after her departure. Held her long enough in his heart for him to use her name to welcome all to the Gévaudan mines. Was that why, when she’d first come to the mines, everyone had been so happy to see her? Because, technically, she protected them from the dangers of the outside world?  
  
Tears sting her eyes and she bites her tongue to calm herself. But it’s been a long day and a stray tear rolls down her cheek. The Fellowship pretends not to see as she brushes it away. She takes the piece of hard cheese Louis had been offering and eats it, chewing furiously.  
  
“Shall we go inside?” She asks once she’s finished. She feels a slight tingle in her chest upon seeing that they’ve already packed up their bed rolls and are loading Myrtille with food again. They’re adapting quickly.  
  
They enter the mines, led only by the dim, grey glow of Chloé’s staff. More gravel crunches under their feet. The darkness is so thick that she can’t see past her staff’s light.  
  
“Well, this is one kind of welcome.” Roland remarks.  
  
“Quiet!” Astolfo hushes him, “They’re probably deep inside the mines. Besides, why should they expect anyone to join them?”  
  
“They certainly haven’t gotten to the redecorating part.” Louis throws a glance at the Averoigne group who stick close to the entrance.  
  
“What do you mean?” Chloé asks over her shoulder. A feeling of impending dread passes through her and she shivers. She tightens her grip on her staff and the light flares up, giving them a larger line of sight.  
  
Skeletons lie on the ground, their disarticulate hands reaching for a salvation that never reached them. They’re centuries old, their clothes worn away by time. Something in her chest pangs and she clutches at her dress. She knew these people, long ago. She knew these people and she had failed them. She hadn’t been able to avenge their deaths. Her throat tightens and she looks away from the remains.

***

“It smells of death,” Noé frowns, his nose wrinkling as he does so, “I don’t think this is a good idea.” He has his hand held out in front of the dhampirs and Vanitas to stop them from going in. Something wet drips onto his shoulder and he looks up.  
  
For a moment, he thinks the lake has moved forwards to them and then Vanitas is jerked backwards with a strangled sound. Noé reaches for him but it’s too late. He rushes back out into the open.  
  
He doesn’t understand how he ever thought it was the lake. It’s a shadowy entanglement of mouths and limbs twisting the wrong way. One of them is currently wrapped around a struggling Vanitas. His face is white, his features twisted in pain as the creature squeezes him. His arms are pinned to his sides, his daggers just out of reach. The creature scuttles backwards, towards the lake.  
  
“What is that?” Noé gasps, incredulous. Durandal grazes his ear as Roland sprints past him. It slashes through some of its arms and it emits a distorted shriek that resounds in their ears.  
  
“Prédateur! It’s a curse bearer!” Chloé tries to use some magic but the music notes she summons are weak and Prédateur doesn’t even flinch. With a scowl, she takes out her sword.  
  
Olivier and Louis charge, avoiding the strikes Prédateur sends their way. Astolfo follows them after having glanced at Dante and Riche, frozen in spot. As he gets near Prédateur, Louisette’s blade extends, slicing through the arms that were nearing him.  
  
The cousins and Noé break out of their shock when Prédateur’s hands fall near them and they dodge out of the way. Myrtille whinnies and Murr hisses.  
  
“Take care of the animals.” Noé orders and before the dhams can protest, he leaps into the fray. Despite how heavy his limbs feel, he uses his vampire strength and speed to zip past Prédateur’s attacks.  
  
“Hey!” Vanitas manages to yell, his words short and breathless, “What do you know about it?”  
  
“It’s the curse bearer’s shadow! It became stronger and ate the curse bearer!” Chloé answers over the sound of battle.  
  
“How do we defeat it?” There’s a distant look in Vanitas’ eyes that doesn’t match the fierce grin on his face, “Unless if it consumes its host, it disappears?”  
  
“That’s what I used to think! But I saw it when the mines fell!”  
  
“Then we need to drag the curse bearer out somehow!” Noé interrupts.  
  
“That’s not our mission!” Olivier shouts. Hauteclaire makes a loud screeching sound as the spikes on its edge start rotating. It tears through Prédateur’s limbs and Prédateur screams, letting go of Vanitas. He plummets and Noé lunges forwards in the hopes of catching him. He leaps and his fingertips brush Vanitas’ wrist. He takes hold of him. Prédateur closes its mouth over them. Chloé screams.  


***

If Prédateur looks like it came straight out of a nightmare, the inside of its mouth is worse. Noé expected gnashing teeth, gore and pain but instead, there’s nothing save for two circles of light far beneath their feet. That’s when Noé realises they’re floating in the air. It’s what he’s always imagined oblivion to look like.  
  
He has one hand arm around Vanitas’ waist, keeping him close as they float downwards slowly. Vanitas pulls out his daggers, the blades glowing, lighting up the area. Pieces of rubble float around them as well as several pieces of furniture and seaweed. Noé’s throat clenches upon seeing the few limp bodies, their faces bloodless and still. Definitely worse than a nightmare.  
  
“It’s the Gévaudan’s people, from when the mines fell,” Vanitas whispers, “This place exists outside of time. Look,” He points at the two circles of light. There’s a person in between them, “It’s the curse bearer.”  
  
“Can we save him?” Noé asks in the same hushed tone, “We’ll be able to get out that way.” Vanitas’ lips purse in disapproval. In his mind, it’d be easier to kill it but they’re unable to get near it, as if Prédateur is keeping them away.  
  
“How-_no._ No, no, no, no, no,” His eyes widen in realisation upon seeing Noé’s look, “We can’t use the Book!”  
  
“It’s the only way,” He answers, “Prédateur can’t be killed and we’re trapped inside. If the Book creates curse bearers, it can inverse the process.” Vanitas hates how reasonable and convincing his tone is.  
  
“No! There has to be another way!” He argues, “The Book is dangerous.”  
  
“You said it yourself, this is outside of time. It shouldn’t alert Vanitas of the Blue Moon,” He smiles, “And don’t worry about getting possessed, I’m here. We can do this.”  
  
“Together?” Vanitas’ laughter is biting but his smile is hopeful. He hates how quickly it took him to cave in to Noé.  
  
“Always.” Noé holds him closer as he takes out the Book and unlocks it. It flips open slowly, as if resenting the fact that it’s going against its nature and can’t alert its master. It stops on a page with Prédateur’s image and the Book glows brightly, engulfing the curse bearer with blue light.  
  
Prédateur shudders, emitting a furious scream as white cracks run up along its sides. It shatters, the shards paling and fading away. Noé grabs the unconscious vampire seconds before Prédateur completely vanishes. All three of them land on the bank of the lake, the disturbed water lapping at their legs. The Fellowship runs over to them.  
  
“I thought we were going to die!” Noé exclaims, taking in large gulps of air. Vanitas half-heartedly hits him and rolls away from him before breaking out into peals of laughter. Noé joins in. The Fellowship stares at them, half-relieved that they’re alive, half-distraught by whatever happened. Louis notices the vampire.  
  
“Did you-did you heal that curse bearer?” He asks once the laughter dies down. He’s more impressed and awed than disapproving but Vanitas seems to take it that way judging from his face, sober and calm again.  
  
“It was our only way of getting out.” He says.  
  
“You used the Book?” Chloé blinks and shakes her head, “I didn’t feel its energy at all.” Noé tells her why.  
  
“What do we do with the vampire?” Dante asks, “You said the mines were taken over by vampires loyal to the Blue Moon. Is this one of them?”  
  
“No. He was a Gévaudan citizen. When the Blue Moon’s vampires invaded, some of them were curse bearers. Their presence activated the curse in him and he became Prédateur,” Chloé brushes some of his hair back, “It’ll be a shock for him to wake up so many centuries later.”  
  
“We can’t have him come with us,” Olivier remarks, “We don’t know if the curse is gone for good or if the Book has repressed it.” Murr trots up to Noé and he pets him distractedly. An idea nudges at his mind as Murr bites his fingers then paws at the vampire.  
  
“I get it!” They all jump at his sudden outburst, “Teacher knew this would happen or at least, something like this. That’s why he sent Murr!”  
  
“What? How can the cat help?” Dante asks.  
  
“To lead him back to Altus. They can look after him there even if he turns back,” He frowns, “But he’ll have to leave with Myrtille.” There are several exclamations that he can’t make out but he knows for sure they’re protesting.  
  
“Noé’s right,” They quiet at Vanitas’ statement, “The mine’s old, the paths might not be large enough for a horse and there’s always the possibility that we never find Fierabras's unit to take care of him (he nudges the vampire with his boot). We might encounter the Blue Moon’s vampire. This is no place for Myrtille or him. As for food, we can always stop somewhere else to get some more.” There’s a general noise of agreement.  
  
“Time to unpack the horse _again.”_ Dante sighs loudly and they distribute their rations equally amongst the nine of them. They hoist the vampire onto Myrtille’s back and Murr climbs up. They turn away to pretend they don’t see Astolfo say his goodbyes before sending her off.  
  
“She’ll be fine.” Noé smiles at him. Astolfo glowers at him but it’s slightly softer than normal.  
  
“Let’s go in and find a place for the night.” Chloé says.  


***

They travel into the mine, the path only illuminated by Chloé’s staff as they’ve closed the door again. They don’t wander for very long especially since Chloé is exhausted and forcing her magic to illuminate a large area. They stop the moment they find an area with no skeletons and settle for the night. Chloé says something about guard shifts and Noé volunteers for the first round.  
  
He stays a long while staring into the darkness, listening to the others’ breathing become more regular as they sink deeper into sleep. There’s the sound of shuffling and he tenses until an air flow redirects the scent his way and he realises it’s Vanitas.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly and blinks as Vanitas sits directly behind him, leaning against him.  
  
“I’m tired.” He whispers, tilting his head back. Something in Noé’s chest pangs-he doesn’t know what it means.  
  
“…I’m tired too.” He agrees, moving slightly so Vanitas is more comfortable. His hand brushes Vanitas’ and squeezes it reassuringly. Vanitas sighs but doesn’t move his hand away. After a few minutes, he falls asleep.  
  
Noé is glad Roland is the one taking the next guard shift because he always wakes up at the right time, meaning Noé doesn’t have to move and disturb Vanitas. Roland makes no comment, only nods at him before setting up for his shift. Noé closes his eyes and falls asleep. 


	11. Fierabras and the Chasseurs

When Louis shakes her awake, Chloé has to take a moment to regain her bearings and convince herself she isn’t in the past. She thinks of snapping jaws and crackling flames before realising she’s in a musty corridor surrounded by half-asleep people. They have a quiet breakfast, all still slightly disbelieving at yesterday’s incidents.  
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Louis asks.  
  
“I believe, trying to find the Chasseurs would be our best course of action. But since we don’t know they are, I think it’d be easier for us to head to the main hall,” Chloé wipes crumbs away from her mouth, “It’s the quickest way through the mines. I do remember the way but it might have caved in since.” She warns and they set off, disturbing dust and skeletons as they walk.  
  
The oppressive atmosphere weighs down on them as they advance deeper into the mines. They spend the day paranoid, expecting something to jump out at them at any moment.  
  
Nothing comes. In fact, Chloé thinks it would be less stressful if something did attack them. After yesterday, where all of them were defenceless when faced with the forces of nature and Prédateur, they’re itching to prove their worth.  
  
“Where _are_ we?” Roland asks at some point towards the evening. Chloé supposes it’s the evening; she doesn’t know. It certainly feels like the evening.  
  
She looks around them. The stone corridor has opened onto a circular room with a few weathered steps that then split into three different passages.  
  
“I,” She says slowly, “Have no idea. It’s been a long, _long_ time since I’ve last been here.” Olivier pinches the bridge of his nose in a last minute attempt to repress a biting remark.  
  
“Let’s settle down for the night.” He says instead. Everyone nods and they split up into groups of either preparing dinner or stretching their limbs. Dante and Roland are the best cooks they have and so they’re in charge of dinner. Chloé goes to a flat rock that overlooks the chasm below the steps and studies the passages one at a time in silence. Vanitas goes to sit next to her, just in range of Noé’s hearing.  
  
“So,” Vanitas starts amiably which is rare, “We’re being followed.” Noé stiffens but continues acting like he isn’t eavesdropping. He didn’t mean to but now, he can’t ignore it. Under Roland’s instructions, he gets a second pan as Roland watches Riche carefully starts a fire; everyone’s gotten used to the fact that she’s somehow the best of them all when it comes to starting those. Dante puts some bacon and sausages on the first pan and decides to trust Louis to watch it.  
  
“You did notice,” Chloé nods, “It started the moment we entered here.”  
  
“It’s Moreau, isn’t it?” Noé drops the pan. Roland catches it before it can fall on the ground. No-one reacts to him doing so, used to his clumsiness when it comes to cooking, even its utensils.  
  
Vanitas glances over his shoulder. They make eye contact. The corner of Vanitas’ lips twitch upwards and Noé realises he wants him to overhear. But why? This isn’t normal Vanitas behaviour. Is it because he trusts him enough to fall asleep on him? He throws a quick glance around; Louis doesn’t seem to be hearing any of this.  
  
“What makes you say that?” Chloé’s voice is calm and steady, meaning Vanitas is correct. He still humours her.  
  
“He was the perfect victim for the Book what with his obsession with knowledge and vampires. He was starting to become corrupted when I escaped, I’m sure of it. His experiments were rather tame compared to what he started doing towards the end. I think the Book stayed latched onto his mind, driving him madder over time. That would explain why Teacher isn’t completely corrupted and why it ignored me for those five years; it had better food. Since Moreau couldn’t find the Book, I suppose staying near his old laboratory was the next best thing. And now that we’re here, he’s attracted to it.”  
  
“You’re correct,” Chloé nods, “What do you plan on doing if you encounter him?” A thin, sharp smile graces his lips.  
  
“Don’t be mistaken, I despise the man-if he even is one anymore. But he doesn’t scare me. If he proves useful, I’ll use him to my advantage. Otherwise, (his smile widens), well, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” A shiver runs up Noé’s spine. He doesn’t want Vanitas to become a murderer, even if Moreau tortured him and is probably nothing like a human anymore. Something tells him it isn’t even the Book’s influence, just a crueller, darker part of his personality coming to the surface.  
  
“Is there something else?” She asks him.  
  
“Do you really plan on dying once this is over?”  
  
“How did you figure it out?” She continues in a pleasant tone as if they were simply talking about dinner and not her own demise but the way she fiddles with the edge of her dress betrays her feelings.  
  
“It would have been hard not to recognise the look when you talked about the mines…But why?”  
  
“I failed someone very important to me when the mines fell. I swore to avenge him and when this quest is over, I’ll have done just that. It’s not like this world needs an old witch like me.”  
  
“You don’t know that.” She only smiles sadly at him, “At least promise me to not get killed on purpose.”  
  
“I could ask you the same.” She answers, raising an eyebrow and making his sinister smile widen.  
  
“Dinner’s ready!” Roland calls and Vanitas climbs down, wiping the smile from his face. A faint trace of it still lingers in his eyes. Chloé watches him before climbing down too, a troubled look in her eyes that matches Noé’s.  


***

Noé might not be on guard duty like Astolfo currently is but he can’t sleep. Vanitas’ last comment about Moreau sticks to his mind for too long. It bothers him that Vanitas would resort to murder so quickly and-  
  
“The voices are so loud,” He freezes upon hearing the voice. It sounds like it’s far away, something only his vampire hearing can pick up. It’s a low voice, the words a mixture between a hiss and a growl that slither around his skull, “So, so loud.”  
  
“Louis.” Noé whispers at his friend’s back, hoping he’s still awake. Louis doesn’t budge and Noé doesn’t dare wake him up or whisper louder. He doesn’t want to alert the creature or scare Astolfo.  
  
“We can smell them. Intruders,” The voice continues, “No…. 69. He’s here. He’s near. We can feel it. I can feel it.” Noé is certain it’s talking about the Book. And a project number-the voice is talking about Vanitas. Does that mean it’s Moreau?  
  
_“Louis.”_ He tries again. Still no movement.  
  
“And No. 71. He was with No. 69 all the time, wasn’t he?” There’s the sound of something akin to beetle legs crawling and Noé curls up into a tight ball. Moreau isn’t too near them yet and so he decides not to alert anyone. Even if Vanitas withholds information about his past (who is this No. 71?) Noé trusts him. He didn’t tell the whole group about Moreau following them for a reason. Instead, he chose Noé. He isn’t about to betray that hard-earned trust, “No. 71. He isn’t here. But he’s been with No. 69 recently. We can smell the blood. And there’s others. We don’t like them. They’ll hurt us. They’ll hurt us.”  
  
The sound of skittering fades along with a final hiss and it’s quiet again. Noé’s hearts thumps rapidly in his chest and only when Louis takes the third guard shift does he sleep, certain that at least someone will hear Moreau come near again.  


***

Noé’s first objective in the morning is to ask Louis if he heard anything. His heart sinks when Louis eyes him strangely and shakes his head.  
  
“Did you hear anything Noé?” Vanitas asks, joining the conversation.  
  
“I thought I did. Must have been my imagination.” He says and it ends there. He sends a silent apology to Louis in his mind but he can’t tell him about Moreau if he isn’t aware of his presence. He needs Vanitas’ trust; otherwise, how is he meant to protect him?  
  
“So, Chloé, did you figure out which way to go through?” Roland asks jovially.  
  
“No,” She answers from above, having climbed the steps, “But this one (she jerks her chin at the passage on the right) has the strongest flow of fresh air. It’ll lead us to an exit of some sorts.”  
  
They climb up cautiously, keeping to the walls to avoid crumbling stone. Noé gazes behind him as he goes, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse, a mark, _something,_ that will prove Moreau was there. He sees nothing but wonders what he looks like.  
  
In his mind, the Moreau that tortured Vanitas and the Moreau corrupted by the Book are two different people. The first one is tall and intimidating, his face chiselled out of ice and swings between cold silence and erratic fits of passion and madness. The second looks like a cross between Charlatan, a beetle and a goblin from his childhood storybooks.  
  
He thinks about asking Vanitas then decides not to. He’s not comfortable with the subject and it would be unwise to bring it up. Besides, he knows what Moreau sounds like, both in voice and in the noise he makes when he moves. They’ll be fine.  


***

The passage they enter narrows after an hour and the ceiling lowers. Louis, Noé and Olivier have to crouch a bit to avoid hitting their heads. They don’t speak. They can hear their breaths in the enclosed space and Chloé can feel someone’s hot breath on the back of her neck. She mistakes it once or twice for an incoming vampire but her millennia of existence have her steeled against these kinds of things.  
  
They emerge into a large hall that used to be where the people of Gévaudan dined, covered with cobwebs and dust. Everyone takes a few moments to clean themselves and Chloé looks around.  
  
Something in her chest twinges as her gaze tries to find symbols of times long gone. The banners and tapestries normally hung from the ceiling have been destroyed and no remnants of their existence remain. There are fragments of the tables and benches left behind and the fires in the many fireplaces and ovens haven’t been lit in centuries.  
  
She shifts her gaze to the rest of the hall. With only the light of her staff lighting the way, she doesn’t very far into the darkness.  
  
“I can see light.” Louis points into the darkness.  
  
“At the end of the tunnel?” Dante quips back and the corners of Louis’ mouth twitch upwards. Chloé squints and sees nothing. She pokes him in the ribs with her staff to tell him to lead. With a half-hearted curse, he pushes it away.  
  
The hall is much longer than she remembers but she hardly finds that surprising. Her memories have altered with time. She takes in a deep breath. If there’s one thing she remembers it’s that the air tasted of ash and blood. Now, there’s only dust, burying past tragedies.  
  
The darkness eases ahead and they start being able to see the outlines of the many pillars scattered around the hall. After a few more steps, they see the light Louis mentioned; it’s a doorway on their left with a hexagonal opening higher up. The light is bright, Chloé notes; it must be at least midday.  
  
“It smells like death,” Noé swallows thickly and Louis nods slowly, grimacing, “And old athelas.” A feeling of dread settles in the bottom of her stomach.  
  
“Remind me,” Chloé grips her staff and glances at Astolfo, “How long has it been since Fierabras and his unit left?”  
  
“A year and a half or so.” He answers tersely. Something in his tone shows he does not like where she is aiming this conversation.  
  
“And how long has it been since anyone had news of them?”  
  
“Around a year.” She hears his breath hitch and then he breaks into a sprint. He takes a sharp turn into the room, closely followed by the rest of the Fellowship. It’s a square room with a corpse wielding a spear in each corner and a small window above from which the light shines.  
  
Astolfo makes a ragged sound in the back of his throat upon seeing the tomb in the centre of the room. Its white stone shines brightly. Olivier brushes away the cloth covering the top of the tomb and recoils as if burned.  
  
“Here rests Fierabras, paladin of the Chasseurs and bravest of them all. May he find peace.” Roland reads the roughly engraved letters, passing his hand over the epitaph. The Chasseurs join their hands together for a moment and have a moment of silence to pay their respects. The rest of the Fellowship imitates them.  
  
“Someone had to bury him, there might be survivors.” Chloé is the first to break the silence after two minutes of it in a small attempt at consolation.  
  
“No, Fierabras was the strongest of his unit. They were probably wiped out soon after,” Astolfo replies sombrely and turns away from them so they don’t see him wiping at his eyes. Something catches his eye and he walks over to a corpse. He pulls a spider web-covered book from its grip and dusts it off, “That’s Mélanie’s handwriting, it must be her body over there. Here.” He passes the book to Chloé. She opens it.  
  
“It’s a journal,” She skims through a few pages, “It talks about how they started reclaiming the mines.” She skips straight to the end of the journal. Her face becomes pinched and drawn as she reads them. Noé peeks over her shoulder, he can’t read it clearly but he can see how the neat handwriting devolves into an illegible scrawl the further down the page it goes. He can read the last date, about a year ago.  
  
“What does it say?” He asks. Chloé sighs and starts reading out loud.  


***

_“Things have changed. It’s almost like the vampires have multiplied. Just yesterday, we were clearing them out and now, they’re everywhere. There are so many of them. We hadn’t been able to see them properly yet since they tended to attack in the dark but these are different to the ones we normally encounter outside. It must be how they adapted._  
  
_Their fangs are always out and their eyes barely have any red in them. Instead, they’re mostly black, like a beetle’s. They’re thin, too thin for normal people what with their gaunt, twisted features and stick-like limbs but that makes it easier for them to come out of small openings and tunnels to kill us. I don’t think they’ve seen light in centuries but they don’t seem afraid of the torches we carry. They remind me of the goblins I heard in the stories when I was small._  
  
_The vampire attacks are becoming more and more frequent, as if they’re concentrating all of their efforts into exterminating us. They almost got Claude but fortunately, he’s alright. As alright as things can be when his dominant arm might be permanently damaged._  
  
_We’ve retreated to this strange room with an empty tomb and barricaded the door. We’ve heard them scratching at it and cackling shrilly but they seem to have left._  


_***_

_All throughout the night, they banged drums and screeched at intervals like some sort of ritual. I can still hear it now, even though there’s only silence. I’m glad I wasn’t on guard duty, I don’t know how Isabelle managed to remain sane through it all._  
  
_We didn’t manage to go out of the room. The moment Fierabras opened the doors, one of them was there and he slammed it shut on its hand. It screamed then started laughing hysterically._  
  
_We’ve been stuck here all day. We can’t get out, they’re always there. We tried to get through the window but it looks too small and the walls are too smooth for us to climb it. Claude’s the only one who could fit but he can’t use his arm anymore. I’m starting to think they pushed us there, to trap us. We’re under siege._  
  
_But it’ll be alright. We have Fierabras._  


_***_

_Our rations are running out. Fierabras is planning some sort of charge to free us._  


_***_

_It’s all gone horribly wrong. Claude was the first to die. They ripped him limb from limb underneath our eyes. The rest of our unit was decimated quickly. Only Isabelle and I remain. All thanks to Fierabras._  
  
_We were retreating to the room when it happened. Isabelle was severely injured and so I was protecting her when one of the vampires fired an arrow at us. I wasn’t aware they had weapons and Fierabras pushed us inside. He followed us, closed the doors and crumpled, the arrow having hit him in the heart; it’s a wonder he stayed alive that long._  
  
_There’s an unused coffin in this room. It looked like it was meant for a king. Fierabras deserves a tomb for a king. I put him in and closed the lid. I spent the rest of the night with a hammer and chisel I’d found on a skeleton, writing his epitaph._  


_***_

_Isabelle is dead. I can hear howling. The drums keep beating and beating and beating and beating and beating._  


_***_

_It’s coming.”_  


***

Chloé closes the book with an air of finality, her face stony. Vanitas immediately knows she’s hiding something.  
  
“We’re going to die,” Louis says, unconsciously lowering his voice, “They don’t know we’re here yet but once they do, we’re going to die.”  
  
“What’s the ‘it’? Chloé?” Vanitas asks her, fully aware of the fact that she knows the answer to that question. Something tells him it has to do with the person she failed.  
  
“A curse bearer in the form of a giant wolf, nicknamed the Beast. Unlike Prédateur, he can be hurt though he heals quickly. I still didn’t manage to kill him back then,” She looks at the ground, clenching her hands in her skirt, “The curse activated when the vampires arrived. His name was Jean-Jacques and he was-he was my closest friend.” Ever so slowly, Riche reaches over and hugs her. Chloé sniffles and hugs her back.  
  
Vanitas frowns and takes a step back, wrapping his arms around himself. Noé is the only one to notice.  
  
“I don’t think we’ve done anything to attract attention,” Roland tries to cheer them up, “Fierabras and his group were looking for them, we’re not.”  
  
“Solid point but we have the weapon of mass destruction they’re looking for.” Dante looks back into the hall.  
  
“As long as we remain quiet, we should be fine then,” Riche plays with her hair, looking at the ground to avoid meeting the eyeless gaze of a corpse, “The only time we’ve been loud is with Prédateur but that was two days ago. We should get going-” She freezes mid-sentence as if listening to something in the distance and blanches.  
  
“Are there wolves in the mines?” Dante asks, his expression a perfect match to Riche’s. Chloé’s answer is delayed as a tingle runs up her spine and she shivers; it’s the same sensation she gets when powerful magic is at hand. She tells the others so before they can ask why she looks like she got struck by lightning.  
  
“And to answer your question Dante, there aren’t any normally unless they snuck in somehow.” She finishes.  
  
“Well I just heard at least three.” He says and Riche nods, “I think your Jean-Jacques would be louder though.” The vampires frown slightly and listen closely then nod in agreement.  
  
“It might be one of Moreau’s,” Astolfo says, still looking shaken by Fierabras's death, “The first reason the Chasseurs got suspicious of him is because a half-skinned dog escaped from his laboratory. He might have experimented on other things. Even though the paths to the Catacombs were sealed, they might have been opened since and as you said, things could have snuck in.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out, his hands shaking.  
  
“I can’t hear them anymore.” Riche says and jumps as below, loud enough so everyone can hear them, the drums start to beat. 


	12. The Past Come to Life

“Why do these drums have excellent timing?” Louis asks as he runs to the door and starts pushing it shut. It’s heavy and so, even with his vampire strength, he has trouble moving it. Olivier goes to help him and Noé and Roland take the other door. An arrow flies through the rapidly narrowing entrance and lands between Riche’s feet.  
  
“Get out of the way!” Dante yells, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away. A few more arrows embed themselves into the door and it finally closes. Olivier and Roland take some of the spears from the corpses and jam them through the handles to keep them shut for at least a little while. Mélanie’s body keeps its spear pointed outwards and close to itself.  
  
“Who cares?” Olivier finally answers Louis as he backs away, slowly at first and quicker as the sound of banging against the door starts and increases in rapidity, “Get ready!” Astolfo runs at Fierabras's tomb and jumps up onto it in one swift leap. He swings out Louisette and brandishes it towards the door.  
  
“Let them come! There’s still one Dwarf Chasseur alive in Gévaudan!” He bellows.  
  
“Fan out! Protect the tomb!” Louis yells back and something like gratitude flashes over the young paladin’s face. In synchronised movements, the Chasseurs take a handful of athelas each and swallow it.  
  
The spears locking the door crack and start breaking, allowing them to see a sliver of an opening. Dante and Riche exchange a glance then choose to take out their swords instead of their ranged weapons; they’re in a closed room and don’t trust themselves to not hit their allies accidentally.  
  
The doors open more and a twisted, shrivelled face peers in. It vanishes almost instantly as Louis, who trusts himself more than the dhams, fires an arrow from his longbow straight into its forehead. It’s dead before it hits the ground.  
  
The thumping against the door stops at once and there’s the sound of a raucous growl.  
  
“Jean-Jacques?” Vanitas asks Chloé what they’re all thinking.  
  
“No, it would be much louder.” She shakes her head calmly though her face is pinched and has taken a grey tinge.  
  
A much larger thing starts pushing against the door and they flinch at the sound of splintering wood. A snarling, salivating snout pushes through the opening and Louis lets loose three arrows one after the other. They break upon hitting its patchy furred skin, only angering it as it lifts two large clawed hands and start pulling the wood apart. Louis curses and reserves his dwindling arrows for other Gévaudan vampires that appear as the doors are rapidly reduced to shreds.  
  
The creature that emerges is a horrifying hybrid of wolf and man. Its shape is vaguely humanoid but it’s much larger and imposing than the average human. Two additional wolf heads snap and clack their jaws together from either side of the first head. Prominent stitches wind around its malformed body. Vampires crowd behind it, eagerly sizing them up.  
  
“It really is Moreau’s work,” Vanitas says in disbelief. It shouldn’t be possible yet the undeniable truth is laid out beneath his eyes. His bleeding skin has been sown up so many times by Moreau’s hands that he can tell it’s Moreau’s work just by the stitches and not the twistedness of its aspect. Is that what he’s been doing during those five years since his lab was raided? Hidden away in the dark, driven further over the edge by the Book, with only wolves and magic extracted from athelas to continue his madness; it seems plausible, “I’ll take care of it myself.” There are many protests but Vanitas ignores them.  
  
Chloé digs through her pack as if they aren’t currently besieged and pulls out some crumpled music sheets. A wolf head snaps its jaws in her direction and undisturbed, she passes her hand over the papers. The music notes peel off them and stick to her fingers. She flicks her wrist and they fly through the air to sink into the vampires’ skin, suddenly razor sharp. The first move has been made and the battle starts.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t get a chance to fight the wolf first as it lunges for Olivier. Olivier dodges its attacks by rolling to the side but knocks into Louis. He falters as he draws back the bowstring and the vampire he’s fighting lunges forwards. Louis jumps backwards and raises his bow to act as a shield. There’s an audible snap as the dagger slices through the taut bowstring. The string recoils, snapping against his fingers, and he lets go of the useless bow.  
  
_“Olivier!”_ He yells in a reprimanding tone.  
  
“Sorry!” He dances away, stopping in front of Fierabras's tomb. Astolfo turns a vampire to dust, whirls around and jabs. Louisette almost nicks the wolf’s artery. The wolf grabs the spear’s shaft and pulls. Astolfo is jerked off his feet and lets go off Louisette, landing on the edge of the tomb. The wolf flings Louisette away, hitting one of its allies and swings both of its large arms to squash him. Astolfo jumps to the side and throws himself onto the ground to avoid the shards of marble that break off the tomb. Fierabras's lipless head grins at him.  
  
Anger has him snarling just as loudly as the wolf and ready to take the wolf on but he’s not stupid. He won’t attack without his spear. It snarls at him and he charges. At the last second, he drops to the ground and seamlessly slides between its legs, one of the head’s jaws snapping close over where his head was seconds ago. He gets up and sprints to where Louisette landed. Riche, trying to avoid fighting as much as she can with Dante, reaches out and hands him his spear. Despite the situation, he gives her a small smile.  


***

Now that there’s nothing else in front of it, the wolf turns towards Vanitas. He grins and finishes the Gévaudan vampire trying to claw his face off. He throws one of his glowing daggers at the wolf. The blade sinks into one of its legs and blood wells at the surface of the wound.  
  
He run at it as it recoils and pulls out the dagger, slicing at its chest with the other one as he does so. It draws blood and in one fluid motion, the wolf strikes at him. He jumps to the left and it narrowly misses him.  
  
A head snaps closed onto his right shoulder and pain courses through his veins. It burns through his skin and the helpless cry that forms in his throat devolves into a strangled sound followed by blood and spittle. It lifts him up and shakes him like a ragdoll and he goes limp, his daggers clattering to the ground.  
  
It’s always been like this, even before his parents died. His first reaction to pain has always been that. To go blank and withdraw within himself. He can’t do anything. He could never do anything. Except for that night at Archiviste Castle-  
  
The wolf gets tired of him and throws him to a corner dismissively. He goes flying.  
  
He doesn’t even need to look back to know he’s going to land on Mélanie’s body. He won’t survive it. Her spear will slide between his ribs and pierce a lung or his heart. Or if he’s unlucky, it’ll miss any important organs and he’ll be in pain for hours before death comes for him. It’ll be agony. He knows himself, he won’t cry. He’ll die, that’s certain.  
  
He hits the ground, the repercussion of the landing shaking through his body. He feels no pain outside of his shoulder and wonders for a moment if he’s already dead or if he hasn’t realised it yet when he notices the pair of arms wrapped around his waist. There’s a groan behind him and he extracts himself from their grip to see Noé.  
  
Noé jumped after Vanitas to save him. Noé hurt himself to protect him. Noé is currently impaled on Mélanie’s spear and not responding to his shaking. _Noé is currently impaled on Mélanie’s spear and not responding to his shaking._  
  
He digs through his pockets and finds a vial filled with a green, murky liquid. He uncorks it with his teeth, his right arm out of commission, and tilts it into Noé’s mouth. He chokes at first then swallows. Vanitas isn’t sure if it will help but Noé is a vampire so he hopes the potion will accelerate his healing and stop him from bleeding out inside. He remembers being told that healing required a lot of belief; he’d always dismissed it as an old wives’ tale but now, he prays.  


***

Dante and Riche freeze upon seeing what’s happened to Noé and Vanitas. They’d mostly been getting as far away from the battle as possible, confident in their allies’ abilities but things aren’t going right. They’re outnumbered and the grotesque wolf creature has decided that Vanitas is interesting again and lumbers towards them.  
  
The cousins look at each other and nod, drawing their swords. They let out the loudest battle cry they can muster and charge.  
  
The wolf doesn’t acknowledge their presence until it’s too late for it. Dante is the first to reach it and slashes at its shins. When it flinches and turns back, they jump onto its back. Riche plunges her sword into one of its necks with no hesitation. Dante does the same to a second head. It flails around, screaming in pain, but they continue.  
  
After what feels like an eternity of stabbing it relentlessly until their blades and clothes are splattered with blood, it stumbles and falls onto its stomach, shaking the ground. The Gévaudan vampires see their biggest ally is dead, freeze and as one, bolt for the exit.  
  
But the cousins don’t care for that as they rush to Noé’s side. He doesn’t react, his eyes closed, despite the fact that Vanitas keeps babbling incoherently at him and squeezing his hands in order to keep him in some sort of conscious state.  
  
“I don’t think-” Olivier starts.  
  
“Heal him!” Riche cries, “Chloé! You’re a witch!” Her voice falters as Chloé shakes her head slowly. She’s no healer, “Please, you have to-_someone_ has to.”  
  
“We can’t,” Chloé says, “Not for a wound like that.”  
  
_“Please.”_ She begs.  
  
“Wha-? What’s going on?” Noé’s eyes flutter open, “Why is everyone yelling?” He slurs.  
  
“You’re alive?” Vanitas jerks away from him, any previous worry on his face gone in a second.  
  
“It feels like it. My head hurts though.” Ever so cautiously, he gets up and they all stare. Mélanie’s spear is snapped at the head. Noé turns around and they see the back of his coat is torn. Something metallic glints underneath.  
  
“Of course,” Vanitas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, irritation seeping onto his face, “The astermite waistcoat. (He scowls fiercely.) Teacher said it was resistant, I didn’t think he meant that much.”  
  
“That sounds like him.” Chloé sighs back, a small smile etched on her lips and slumps against her staff, “We need to leave. Is everyone alright?”  
  
They all look a little worse for wear now. The cousins are a little ruffled at the edges and covered in oily blood but are uninjured. The Chasseurs have the occasional scratch and Olivier’s long braid is mostly undone but the entire ordeal has barely affected them. The same goes for Louis though he has to resort to holding his sword since he lost his scabbard along with his bow at some point; he is not pleased by this new predicament. Chloé hides how rattled she is by avoiding all of their gazes and sheathing her sword away. Noé grounds his mind as he watches Vanitas clumsily treat his own shoulder wound; he won’t be able to fight properly until it heals. Noé picks up his daggers and slide them into their sheaths at Vanitas’ belt.  
  
“We’re fine,” Olivier summarizes, “They’ll be back, won’t they?”  
  
“Of course they will. We’re form a group. I’ll stay up front. Chasseurs and Louis, take the outside. The rest of you, stick to the middle. Weapons out, keep up the pace.” Chloé orders and runs out of the room. It doesn’t take them long to catch up to her and it doesn’t take long for the Gévaudan vampires to reappear. An endless wave of them crawls out of holes in the ceiling and waves; Riche is reminded of cockroaches and shudders.  
  
When the first one tries to throw itself at Chloé, aiming for her jugular, she yells “Back!” and slams her staff against the ground. Grey light spreads across the floor underneath their feet and rises over them into a protective dome. The dome moves with them and slams against the vampire. Its skin peels away, bubbling at the edges. A cold sweat breaks out onto Chloé’s forehead but she doesn’t slow down.  
  
The vampires scratch and claw at the dome despite it blistering and searing their skin off. Noé can’t help but feel something akin to pity upon seeing them. Is this the Blue Moon’s influence or were they always like this, feral and mindless?  
  
The smell of burning flesh makes him nauseous and he looks over at Louis to see that he’s gone pale and looks like he’s on the verge of hurling; Noé assumes he has the same expression on his face.  
  
“I won’t be able to hold on for very long!” Chloé stumbles but keeps on going, “Hurry!” They accelerate but the vampires seem to understand that the shield is faltering as they press against it in stronger numbers.  
  
The shield shatters into a thousand pieces that fade into nothingness and they all freeze as if paused in time. The hall’s exit is _so close._ The vampires shriek with joy and surround them. Both sides observe each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.  
  
The ground rumbles under their feet and Noé almost falls over. He glances over his shoulder. There’s a dim red glow at the end of the hall that is getting brighter by the second. Something like fear passes over the vampires’ faces in collective unison and they scatter, crawling back into the darkness they came from. There’s a loud howling sound that sends shivers down their spines and makes the hair on the back of their neck rise.  
  
“What _is_ that?” Dante asks. Chloé has gone very white, her eyes wide with understanding.  
  
“It’s Jean-Jacques. Run!”  


***

For someone so small, Chloé runs faster than any of them. Louis and Noé don’t use their vampire speed, the first still too nauseated and the other still somewhat stunned to do so. They reach a large staircase and run down. The walls disappear at some point and Olivier warns everyone to be careful. Chloé scowls and with a burst of grey light summons small hovering flames that light the way. She falters and only then does she slow down a bit.  
  
“Are you alright?” Roland asks.  
  
“Less questions, more running!” She shoots back, her breath ragged, “We need to put as much ground as possible between Jean-Jacques and us!” Her foot slides on the step and her arms windmill, trying to regain balance. Dante grabs her arm and pulls her backwards before she can tumble into the abyss. An arrow flies past where she used to stand.  
  
On the other side of the chasm on their left, more vampires have gathered and are shooting at them.  
  
“How _many_ are there?” Louis asks what everyone is thinking.  
  
Riche pulls out an arrow from her quiver, pulls her bowstring back and lets the arrow go flying. It hits a vampire square between the eyes.  
  
“Nice! It’s just like hunting! Except the targets are bigger!” She exclaims then falters, “And they’re actual people…oh no -”  
  
“Have the conscience crisis later!” Astolfo yells, “You’re the only ranger we have!”  
  
“I think you’re forgetting someone.” Chloé pushes him out of the way and a ribbon of visible music notes shoots from her staff. It wraps around one of the archers and as he struggles to get free, he stumbles and falls off the side of the cliff, straight into the abyss. It costs her however and she almost falls again.  
  
“Get down witch!” Chloé obeys and Dante shoots a silvery-looking bolt from his crossbow and a cloud of smoke erupts from it as soon as it lands, “Go, go, go!”  
  
The cloud of smoke lasts about thirty seconds and they manage to reach a landing and delve further into the mines. The vampires no longer appear but when Noé looks back, he sees the red glow has intensified.  
  
“Look!” Chloé points in the distance to a thin strip of stone that extends from their side to a solitary entrance, “It’s the bridge to the outside!”  
  
“Are you sure?” Vanitas asks.  
  
“I’m not senile yet! That’s the exit!” They reach it and Chloé stops dead in her tracks, “Go ahead!” They obey and walk across the bridge in single file. Once they’re safely gathered on the other side, she starts crossing. A cold wind from the outside ruffles her hair but hot gusts of air race across her back and she stops halfway. Jean-Jacques has arrived.  


***

Jean-Jacques is a humongous wolf, with red fur and a black line running down his back. His mouth is a twisted, gruesome thing filled with teeth and his six eyes roam the room hungrily. They land on their group.  
  
“Jean-Jacques!” Chloé yells and he flinches before growling at her, his gaze turning to her small form.  
  
“I don’t think he’s lucid!” Dante tells her. Chloé looks torn.  
  
“Noé,” Vanitas whispers, “Hide me.” Noé steps in front of him and he pulls out the Book from his belt and holds it out in preparation. It refuses to unlock. He tries to pry it open but the Book resists. His arms shake as if he’s suffering from the repercussions of a blow and his right shoulder, which had started to numb thanks to a potion he’d chugged rapidly, flares in pain. Noé throws him a concerned look and he shakes his head as he puts the Book back with trembling hands, the pain instantly disappearing. He can’t cure Jean-Jacques.  


***

Jean-Jacques advances onto the bridge with caution, the stone groaning under his weight, and stops right in front of Chloé. She unclasps her cape and lets it go. It flutters in the wind before plummeting into the abyss.  
  
“Jean-Jacques,” She spreads out her arms her sword in one hand and staff in the other, “I’m sorry.” He flinches, as if in recognition, and growls at her. She’s pale, sweating and her eyes wear a haunted expression but she stands her ground and straightens.  
  
“Chloé! Get over here!” Olivier shouts at her but doesn’t move towards her. He doesn’t want to trigger Jean-Jacques into attacking by making a sudden movement.  
  
“I can’t! It’s my duty!” She yells back. Jean-Jacques lunges forwards to attack, his jaws wide enough to engulf her. He doesn’t manage to bite down, as Chloé thrusts her sword upwards, forcing his jaws apart. He gags, a frothing foam of saliva slobbering down the sides of his mouth. He strains against it, ignoring the sharp pain and the metal starts to bend.  
  
There’s the sound like a whip cracking as her staff hits the bridge. A bright fissure spreads across the bridge in front of him and the bridge starts to crumble. The sword snaps in two and Jean-Jacques roars, the wounds caused by it already healing. He falls into the abyss, howling, the red glow fading with him. Chloé turns towards them with a smile, tears streaming down her face.  
  
“I did it.” She says then crumples to the ground, burying her face in her shaking hands. Noé stills. From where he is, he can see the Book’s tendrils he’d spotted during the council in Altus. Before, they had barely managed to grab her but now, he watches in horror as they wrap around her limbs. She stills and gets up too stiffly for it to be to true. She’s too close to the edge.  
  
“Chloé!” He yells and she looks at him. The tendrils dissipate under his eyes and she slumps like a puppet cut from its strings. Her foot catches on a piece of rock and she stumbles backwards, “Chloé!” He cries again and lunges for her.  
  
_“My, my, what do we have here?”_ A shadowy hand grabs Chloé’s forearm and stops her from falling. Naenia grins at them and Louis tackles Noé, pulling him back before he gets too close, _“Such a shame. You treated my Jean-Jacques so cruelly.”_  
  
“Don’t you dare say his name!” Chloé spits. Naenia’s only response is to let her fall a few inches before grabbing her wrist again and hefting her up so the tip of her feet barely touch the ground.  
  
_“Come now,”_ She chides, _“I’ll help you up if one of those two_ (she gestures at Louis and Noé) _gives me his true name. You took away my Jean-Jacques and I need a new toy.”_ No-one questions her ability to take names like Vanitas of the Blue Moon; if the Book can cure curse bearers, they don’t see why Naenia can’t possess that power.  
  
“Don’t you dare!” Chloé tells them.  
  
_“Would you rather fall?” _Naenia taunts her. Chloé cranes her neck to look Vanitas straight in the eyes.  
  
“Guide them out and _you_(she looks at Olivier) lead them,” She shifts her eyes to Naenia and grins, “And to answer your question, I will but only with you.” She raises her suddenly glowing hands to Naenia’s neck and clamps them down.  
  
Naenia makes a choking sound as Chloé’s nails digs in her throat. There’s a crackling sound and Naenia convulses, her shadowy body taking a humanoid appearance with flowing tresses of hair. Chloé’s eyes widen in surprise and Naenia, finally affected by nature’s laws like the rest of them, stumbles as her feet touch the rocky ground.  
  
Chloé increases the pressure, her hands bloodied and Naenia teeters before plunges forwards, into the abyss. Chloé’s broken laughter echoes for a long while as she plummets into the void too. 


	13. A Moment of Rest

Noé isn’t sure if he’s the one who screams or if it’s one of the dhampirs. Maybe it’s all three of them. Maybe it’s none. He isn’t sure.  
  
Tears blur his vision and choked, pained noises force themselves out of his mouth. He sinks to his knees, Louis’ arms still around him.  
  
“Noé, get a hold of yourself!” Louis shakes him, “We need to go!”  
  
“Chloé,” He mutters, “She’s-she’s gone.” Louis’ façade of calm shifts into one of distress.  
  
“I know Noé, I know. But we can’t let her have died in vain.” Through the tears, he sees Astolfo doing the same to Riche and Roland to Dante. Olivier has already forged ahead, going to see if there are any enemies.  
  
It’s Vanitas who snaps him out of his daze. His face is blank, his eyes devoid of life as he stares at the destroyed bridge, as if Chloé might reappear if he does so. His eyes focus on a point in front of him but they’re still glazed, looking at something none of them can see. He looks…broken. Noé gets up and gently places a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“We need to go.” He tells him and Vanitas nods, dazed. Olivier returns, a harried look on his face which he tries to hide.  
  
“The path directly to the outside is blocked. But I think I’ve found another way.” They follow him, all a semblance of calm whilst Dante and Riche don’t bother with wiping the tears away.  
  
Olivier’s new path leads to something that doesn’t match the rest of the mine. It smells of chemicals, dried blood and sweat and the vampires gag. Vanitas stiffens.  
  
“We’re in the Catacombs. Specifically Moreau’s laboratory,” He says in the smallest voice, “Chlo-She must have known there was a chance we’d pass by here.”  
  
“Can you guide us out?” Noé asks him, just as softly. Vanitas nods and moves to the head of the group; Noé goes with him.  
  
If he’d been a child, Moreau’s laboratory would have been an absolute nightmare. It’s gloomy and every dark corner seems to be hiding some sort of monster. He wonders how Vanitas can remain so calm here; maybe Chloé’s death (a lump forms in his throat) has made him numb to everything around him.  
  
They pass an operating table splattered with old blood with rusty tools on the side and Noé wonders how much time Vanitas spent there, subject to Moreau’s whims and fancies.  
  
There’s the soft sound of paper crumpling and Noé looks over his shoulder to see Louis stuff some papers into his shirt. Their eyes meet and Louis brings a finger to his lips, his eyes telling Noé that they’ll talk about it later. Noé turns back to the front.  
  
They emerge from the Catacombs into afternoon sunlight and stop. Dante and Riche instantly fall to their knees, more tears streaming down their faces. Louis crouches at their sides, trying to get them back on their feet. Vanitas staggers away from the group and Olivier follows.  
  
“Vanitas,” He says softly, trying to get his attention, “We need to go.”  
  
“Chloé’s dead.” He replies, looking him dead in the eyes.  
  
“Yes,” He acknowledges, feeling a lump build in his throat, “But we need to get moving.”  
  
“Where can we go? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” His tone is monotone, devoid of life and Olivier gets the impression he isn’t talking with the real Vanitas but somehow a Gévaudan corpse that looks just like him. He grips Vanitas’ shoulders just to make sure he’s still real and sighs.  
  
“Roland and I know this area well enough, we’re near Machina Woods,” He says and lets go upon remembering Vanitas’ shoulder injury; he reacts so little Olivier can’t tell if he hurt him more or not.  
  
“Is it safe there?”  
  
“Yes, Machina is a vampire and an old ally. He’s just…unusual. Are you alright with that?”  
  
“I’m not the one you should be worried about here.” He turns away dismissively and one of Olivier’s eyebrows twitches in annoyance. He says nothing.  


***

By the time they reach Machina Woods, it’s late afternoon. Noé is surprised, despite it being January the trees are already covered in spring green leaves and it’s warm enough that he takes off his tattered coat quickly enough. There’s movement in the trees that he supposes are birds or squirrels but he’s too tired to look up.  
  
They’re all tired, he realises though some of them know how to hide it expertly. Obviously, it’s the Chasseurs and Louis. They’ve known grief, having often lost their comrades or relatives in battle or in moments of danger. Noé had lost _Grandmère_ and _Grandpère_ but he’d been young and hadn’t fully comprehended the meaning of their deaths, something Vanitas had pointed out in one of their early arguments, calling him both naïve and stupid (Noé, not normally prone to violence especially since he knew the cause for Vanitas’ bitter and hateful attitude, had given him a black eye).  
  
“I don’t like it here.” Riche says, hugging herself. Her voice is hoarse from so much screaming and crying and fresh pain is written all over her face.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Astolfo says in a consoling manner that isn’t typically his. Noé blinks and the Fellowship freezes completely.  
  
“We could smell you a mile away _paladin.”_ A sword rests at the base of Astolfo’s throat, threatening to draw blood if he makes a movement. He keeps his breathing shallow, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. The sword’s wielder is hidden by a mask and a hooded cloak that hides any discerning feature of theirs. When they speak, a feminine lilt with almost mechanical intonations comes out from behind the mask. Strangely enough, Noé can’t make whether or not she’s a vampire but he assumes she is otherwise how would she have sneaked up on them like that?  
  
“We come in peace.” Olivier rests a hand on her sword.  
  
“I know. Otherwise your corpses would litter the entrance of our woods.” There’s a shuffling in the branches and humanoid shapes surround them-not birds or squirrels then but guards.  
  
“Really now?” Roland’s eyes are empty and dead as he speaks but there’s a glimmer of something hidden deep, “I’d like to think we’d put up a nice fight against you.” A threat.  
  
“Roland.” Olivier warns. The woman laughs, a sharp merry thing and sheathes her sword. Astolfo takes a step back, rubbing at his throat.  
  
“As fearless as ever aren’t you Roland?” She does a vague hand gesture and the guards in the trees disappear, “My name is Carmilla, welcome to Machina Woods!”  


***

Machina Woods is, as Olivier and Roland said, unusual. Averoigne, from what he hears, is considered strange too but they don’t welcome strangers with weapons. But Noé supposes that after all they’ve been through, it isn’t too surprising.  
  
The deeper they head into the forest, the taller and thicker the trees become until the sky disappears and they have to rely on lanterns in order to see properly. Platforms at different heights appear on the trees, linked between each other by bridges.  
  
They walk up a winding staircase to one of the lower platforms where many people, dressed similarly to Carmilla, lounge. Small machines on wheels pass from time to time, holding scrolls and letters in their pincer-like hands.  
  
“Look, if no-one’s going to say it, I will,” Dante says after a moment of contemplation, “Why is there a bear?” There is indeed, a bear. It stands on its hind legs and gesticulates at a woman as if it had forgotten it were an animal. Carmilla abandons them to go to it.  
  
“That’s Marquis Machina in his automaton,” Roland explains, “He’s just eccentric.”  
  
“For someone who lives in a forest he sure does love metal.” Louis comments, nudging a machine away before it runs into his legs.  
  
“Hidden away like this, I’m able to create in peace,” The bear-or rather Marquis Machina- lumbers over to them and spreads its arms. Noé’s gaze fixes on the sharp claws and stays there, “Welcome-and welcome back for some of you- esteemed guests!”  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality!” Roland cheers.  
  
“No thank you for what you have chosen to do,” He looks them each in the eye, “Hm? Where’s Chloé? Wasn’t she with you?” The Fellowship stares at the ground.  
  
“We encountered a certain Naenia in Gévaudan,” Roland’s smile fades, “Chloé…is gone.”  
  
“Ah, she was one of the best witches France has ever known,” Machina says sombrely, “Her sacrifice will be remembered. Unfortunately, I do not know of the Naenia you speak of.”  
  
“That’s alright,” Olivier says, “But this wasn’t our original route so we might stay a while to prepare.”  
  
“Please, take as much time as you need. It seems some of you are injured after all.” He points at Riche, still covered in the wolf’s blood.  
  
“Oh, this isn’t mine,” She says much to Machina’s surprise (not that the bear shows it much), “But some of us do need stitches.” She glances at Vanitas.  
  
“Carmilla, please lead our guests to their lodgings.” Machina says and shuffles away.  
  
“Guests huh? Then I suppose I can take these off,” Carmilla pulls her hood back, revealing dark hair tied back into an intricate braid, and removes her mask. Half of her face is delicately crafted out of bronze, her right eye emitting a soft mechanical whirr as it moves. The metal spreads down her throat and disappears underneath her clothes, “I got mauled by a curse bearer. Machina ‘recreated’ me.” She explains nonchalantly at some of the surprised looks sent her way, “Now come.”  
  
Carmilla leads them back to the ground where a few tents have already been established.  
  
“If you need anything, come find me.” She says and when they say they probably won’t, she leaves.  
  
They lay down their packs and collapse. Vanitas goes to a corner and starts treating his wounds as best he can. Upon realising he’ll need someone else to sow him up, he calls for Olivier; normally, he wouldn’t ask for him but the dhams are squeamish, Noé and Louis are vampires, and he’d rather bleed out than trust Roland and Astolfo with stitching him up.  
  
Noé takes a long moment to breathe then gathers up his courage to go find some running water so he can wash away the dirt and blood much to Dante’s consternation who decides to accompany him so he doesn’t get lost. Despite their best efforts, they still get lost on the way back.  


***

It’s night-time when realisation hits Noé properly. Chloé is _gone._ There’ll be no more barely controlled fireworks. No more of her strange but entertaining anecdotes. No more of her low grumbling when she’s feeling bitter because someone treated her like a child. No more of her almost unending well of knowledge.  
  
Tears spring to his eyes and his breathing gets funny for a moment. It shouldn’t have gone like this. They could have saved her. All Naenia had asked for was his or Louis’ true names. He should have given his away. Jean-Jacques had recognised Chloé, that meant some curse bearers retained their memories. And the Book had managed to cure Prédateur, Vanitas could do it again.  
  
His heart leaps into his throat. It’s his fault. He could have saved her. The Fellowship needs Louis, he’s smart, he’s strong and he knows how to survive. But Noé? He’s just a gardener from Averoigne, he’s expendable. Chloé may have told him to protect Vanitas but what had he done? Vanitas had been stabbed and poisoned, buried in an avalanche, held hostage by Prédateur, clawed at and bitten-was his right arm even going to work properly again? And it’s obvious he’s becoming more and more dependent on the Book-Noé might be naïve but he isn’t stupid. Vanitas is smart yet recently, his first solution always seems to include the Book.  
  
Noé bites back the choked sound he always makes before crying. The others must hate him. They must know too that with Chloé and without him, things would be better. They must blame him for what’s happened. He’s so, _so_ useless.  
  
His thoughts dark and murky, Noé turns on his side and falls into an uneasy sleep.  


***

Olivier decides, when they wake up the next morning, that they’ll stay a while in Machina Woods. As Machina himself said, they need to recuperate. Both mentally and physically.  
  
He’d barely slept, watching yesterday’s events play out in his head over and over again. Even now, he sees Chloé’s sacrifice every time he closes his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to stay awake.  
  
What Chloé did saved them all, he’s aware of it. But something tells him Naenia isn’t gone forever. They’d seen her as a spirit, he doubted she’d be killed by a fall. He decides not to tell the others in case they haven’t figured it out yet, he doesn’t want to make them feel worse. He already feels bad enough.  
  
And much to his greatest shame, there’s something like relief in his chest. Chloé’s presence has always been a pressure of sorts; her belief in becoming the role given has always been strong. Too strong. It made him feel guilty that he wasn’t as dedicated in becoming king as she was in being a witch. But now she’s gone (and he hates it, why is he like this?) but he’s calm. It’s as if his LeSage persona has taken over completely.  
  
He’d created LeSage when he’d just been named paladin. When he’d been young and the title only felt like some form of nepotism because he’s Charlemagne’s descendant. He’d felt like a fraud and a part of him still does but that part focuses only on his status as an heir. He’s earned the title of paladin now.  
  
It had been hard to slip into the mask at first. LeSage and Olivier may be two different people but it was difficult to repress his infamous temper known for igniting at the slightest spark. And making sure people didn’t recognise him as one or the other was something that required just as much effort. He didn’t want the Chasseurs to think he was ashamed to be one of their captains.  
  
But it had become easier. Too easy in fact. It had become more and more common for him to use it, first around Roland and sometimes even around the Chasseurs in his unit if he was in charge of one. This is, now that he thinks about it, the longest he’s been acting as Olivier in a while. If Roland hadn’t revealed who he was at Altus, he would probably still be using it. He has a sneaking suspicion Roland used Astolfo’s disrespect as a pretext to do so; they’ve had one too many arguments about this, Roland thinking that what he’s doing is unhealthy. Olivier supposes it is but he much prefers being LeSage than being Olivier, life is simpler that way.  
  
He stops cleaning Hauteclaire and sighs. He doesn’t understand why he’s so affected by this. He’s seen his companions die more times than he’d like to admit and in ways more brutal than Chloé’s. He should be used to this type of thing, it’s what his life is: travel, combat, rest and repeat.  
  
Olivier sneaks a look at their campsite through the flap of his tent. Carmilla swung by this morning and took Roland and Astolfo with her on the basis that the latter needed a tour and that she needed to catch up with the former. The dhams, Noé and Vanitas also left on their own not long after.  
  
Now, it’s just Louis and him. Or at least, he assumes Louis is still there. The others were nice enough to notify him before leaving but seeing how Louis and he are at odds, he doubts he’d inform him. He steps out of the tent, leaving Hauteclaire behind.  
  
Louis is sitting against the trunk of a large oak tree, brow furrowed in concentration as he reads some papers that look like they should have turned to dust a while ago. They must be protected with magic extracted from athelas; that means they’re important. Only important documents get that sort of treatment in the Chasseurs. He sits next to him.  
  
“What do you want?” Louis asks without looking up.  
  
“Nothing,” He sighs, “Just companionship.” It’s a lie and they both know it. What Louis doesn’t know, however, is that he’s made a decision.  
  
“We’re not friends,” Louis reminds him, “So what do you want?”  
  
“You liked me when I was LeSage.” He points out. It’s not where he intended this conversation to go but it’s too late to go back.  
  
“Yes,” He admits, looking up for a few seconds, “But even though we’re allies, the moment this (he moves his hand to indicate the area around them) is over, we’re on opposing sides.”  
  
“Is the title that important to you?” Louis is quiet for a moment before answering.  
  
“I don’t mind it. I’m fine being either Captain of the Guards or the regent. In the end, it’s just something my family always did. It’s nothing against you really but as I said before, you’re weaker to the Book than you want to think. There’s no point in ruling if you’re going to be corrupted. The argument we had in Altus only reinforced that idea for me.” He says before turning back to his papers. Olivier sees what he means, if he follows that line of thought then all of his motivations and actions are because the Book is corrupting him. He also takes a moment to answer.  
  
“I don’t want the title.” The papers scrunch between Louis’ hands. There, he’s said it.  
  
“Are you serious?” He carefully straightens out the papers.  
  
“I don’t want the title,” He repeats, “I don’t see why I should have a claim to it more than you.” Louis blinks repeatedly.  
  
“You don’t want the title?”  
  
“Not unless through some twist of fate you decide not to take it.”  
  
“Where is this coming from? The last time we talked about this you seemed very reluctant to let go of it,” A beat. Then, “Is this about Chloé?”  
  
“No.” He says and strangely enough, it’s the truth.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“LeSage.” Is all Olivier says much to Louis’ confusion.  
  
“Alright, keep your secrets.” Louis says upon realising he won’t add anything. When he turns back to his reading, it’s with a much softer look than before. Olivier tilts his head against the tree and closes his eyes, his mind at peace.  
  
The peace doesn’t last long. Less than five minutes later, Louis taps him on the shoulder. With a loud sigh, he opens his eyes.  
  
“I think you might want to read this.”  


***

Noé’s beloved sleep schedule has become like Vanitas’ meaning it’s almost non-existent. He goes through each day in some sort of daze, lost and confused. When Olivier says at lunch that they’ll be leaving in two days, he barely registers his words. Nor does he hear what their new route will be, he only understands that following a river is involved.  
  
That night, he can’t sleep. The guilt and shame still tears at his insides even though Chloé’s death doesn’t come to mind as often. No, this time, it’s Vanitas’ safety that comes to mind. It’s his main priority now. He needs to stop letting Vanitas get injured and protect him, it’s the only way he can honour Chloé’s memory.  
  
He tosses and turns in his tent but sleep doesn’t come. As quietly as he can, he crawls out of his tent and wanders aimlessly into the trees. A few minutes later, when he reaches the top of a small hill, he realises he’s being followed.  
  
He looks over his shoulder. Vanitas isn’t even trying to hide and upon seeing he’s been spotted, joins him.  
  
“What are you doing out at this hour?” Noé asks him.  
  
“I could ask the same to you,” Vanitas shrugs one shoulder, his right one is healed but it’s still somewhat sore so he avoids using it, “I saw you leaving and decided to keep an eye on you. Are you alright? You haven’t been the same these last few days.” Vanitas takes a seat and pats the ground next to him. Noé sits next to him. From where they are, they have a good view on the inhabited part of Machina Woods.  
  
“I keep thinking about Chloé,” Vanitas nods in order to encourage him, “We’ve known her since we were children and to think she’s gone-” His voice breaks off and he doesn’t continue.  
  
“You miss her… And you feel guilty.” Vanitas concludes. Despite what every part of his body is screaming at him to do, he doesn’t deny it. Vanitas is too smart to be deceived and it would only offend him.  
  
“I’m a nobody-” Before he can continue his self-deprecating speech, Vanitas flicks his forehead. Surprised, and slightly annoyed, Noé rubs at his forehead and stares at him.  
  
“You really are an idiot, aren’t you? Chloé told you to stay out of it and chose to sacrifice herself; she’d hit you with her staff if you reduced her choice to something she was forced to do.”  
  
“Heh. She would.” He lets out a small, bitter laugh.  
  
“Exactly. She was a witch who’d lived for centuries, she knew what she was doing,” He pushes his hair out of his face, it’s gotten longer since they left Montmartre, “And you seem to forget that you’re also the last Archiviste. Chloé would have kicked you in the shins if she heard you talk like that. If you don’t think you deserve the same treatment as the others because you’re a gardener, remember that.”  
  
“But I failed-”  
  
“Noé please shut up,” He says but not unkindly, “You were going to say you couldn’t protect me, weren’t you? You say you want to protect me for Chloé but that’s a lie, isn’t it? You just saw it as a way to escape your normal life and to see the world.”  
  
“You’re right,” He admits, “But I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful towards Teacher or grateful towards the Book. But believe me Vanitas, I do want to protect you. Not that I’m being condescending.” He adds quickly.  
  
“Mm,” He mutters, “Are you feeling better?”  
  
“A bit. Thank you,” The heavy feeling in his chest has only slightly lessened but it still changes everything, “How did you know what to say?”  
  
“…No-one said it to me when my parents died. But that’s what I wanted them to say.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Vanitas scowls at his pity and turns away. He isn’t mad for long because his eyes widen and he grabs Noé’s sleeve.  
  
“Look over there.” He points at the tree they were taken up the first day. Marquis Machina-still as a bear- lumbers down the staircase and onto the ground.  
  
“Where’s he going?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Vanitas’ grin is fierce, “But we’re going to find out.” Noé finds himself grinning back. 


	14. The Mirror

As quietly as possible, they follow Machina deeper into the woods. Leaves crunch under their feet and so they hang back whilst keeping him in their line of sight; it reminds Noé a bit too much of the first time they met Charlatan, back in Averoigne. The feeling only intensifies as mist starts to gather on the ground, thickening with every step.  
  
Something starts to take shape in the mist ahead and solidifies. Noé can’t make it out properly but it goes up to Machina’s chest when he stops in front of it. They both scurry closer and hide behind a tree. Now, Noé can see it’s a worn-looking stone plinth with a metallic basin resting on top of it.  
  
“You can both come out now.” Machina says. Scowling, Vanitas shows himself and Noé follows. He peers into the basin and sees that it’s filled with immobile water.  
  
“What is it?” Noé asks.  
  
“Faustina helped me create it before she-” He pauses then starts again, “You both know that astermite is imbued with magic, right?” He continues as if they’d confirmed, “By adding water, this mirror forms visions of the past, present and of the futures.”  
  
_“Futures?_ Plural?” Vanitas remarks.  
  
“There are many variants of the future. Things that could or could not happen. These visions are quick and unclear. If you focus on a subject, the mirror should show it to you. I brought you here so you could calm your doubts.”  
  
“Or only intensify them,” Vanitas mutters, as cynical as always. Neither of them comments on the fact that Machina had somehow known they were awake, “Will I be the only one seeing this? Or will he too?” Vanitas jerks his head towards Noé.  
  
“As long as the other doesn’t touch it, it won’t change. But yes, you both will see it.” Machina explains. Vanitas chews his lip for a while, temptation mingled with hesitation written all over his face; he wants to look but he doesn’t want Noé to see anything he’s kept hidden from him. Noé stops him from overthinking by turning and gripping the sides of the mirror, fully aware of Machina leaving and Vanitas leaning in over his shoulder. _I want to see home,_ he thinks.  
  
The surface of the mirror ripples. The visions that form after are too fast and vague for him to remember them all but one remains burned into his brain. That of Montmartre going up in smoke. He pulls away as if scalded, his breathing shaky and a large lump in his throat.  
  
“Noé, are you alright?” Vanitas’ words barely register through the chorus of screams in his ears, “Noé, _focus._ It wasn’t clear so it must be of the future. It’s just a possibility amongst others…Are you feeling better?”  
  
“You’re right,” Noé nods quickly, more in a gesture to convince himself than to agree with him, “It must be what happens if the Blue Moon wins.”  
  
“We’ll be alright.”  
  
“Since when are you an optimist?” He asks and Vanitas lets out a small snicker.  
  
“People change and apparently, so do I.” His voice softens at the end of his phrase and he steps up to the mirror. _I want…answers,_ Vanitas decides, _About the raid on Moreau’s lab._  
  
A new image takes shape in the water, that of a woman he’s never seen before with flowing hair and crimson eyes. She’s dressed in robes of silver and holding a staff. _So this must be the infamous Faustina,_ he thinks.  
  
She walks down a staircase to a round, bleak room that looks too much like Moreau’s laboratory for his own liking. In fact, it looks almost like an exact replication of it except better maintained. On the operating table lies a man, his rising and falling chest the only indication that he’s still alive…Paul?  
  
He shakes himself. No, he refuses to be sucked into the past again. But he can’t help but be lost in his memories again. Paul was one of the few adults part of the experiments Moreau conducted; Vanitas doesn’t know much about him but he clearly remembers the last time he saw him. He’d been one of Moreau’s first successful experiments on the path of vampirism. And by successful Vanitas means it sapped any will and personality Paul had possessed until he was an empty shell.  
  
He refrains from shuddering, the man on the table’s eyes are just as devoid of life as Paul’s were. Then he remembers that Naenia stole of Moreau’s papers and that she’s Charlatan’s ally, making her Faustina’s ally. Then that means it isn’t entirely impossible that Faustina is making herself a soulless army.  
  
“Rise,” Faustina orders and the man obeys before putting on armour. A long serrated blade now hangs at his waist, “And remember every word I say.”  
  
“Yes Mistress.” His voice is raspy, as if he’s been screaming for hours, but his intonation is monotone, all machine and no humanity.  
  
“The Book-bearer is from the Shire. Find them and bring them back. _Alive,_” So she doesn’t know who exactly has the Book, he supposes that’s a good thing, “Without Chloé, they’re nothing... Eliminate the others. Now take your unit and go.” She orders and turns away.  
  
“Yes Mistress.” The man puts on his helmet and Vanitas instantly recoils, as if he’d been stabbed. The mark on the helmet, the mark of Faustina’s army, is the exact same as the mark on Vanitas’ arm.  


***

“We’re being hunted.” Is the first thing Vanitas says to the Fellowship the next morning at breakfast.  
  
“Alright, what makes you say that?” Olivier doesn’t even bat an eye at his statement; he’s been acting much calmer recently, Noé wonders why. Louis too, though when Noé asked about the papers he’d taken from Moreau, he’d tensed and never answered.  
  
He focuses back to the conversation to hear Vanitas explain their visions and the Mirror. Unsurprisingly, he leaves out the part about the mark. Noé is the only one he’s ever shown the mark, he isn’t going to start showing it off now. He wonders how the mark relates to Vanitas and how he got it.  
  
“Well, that’s certainly something,” Olivier sets his empty plate down, “We should leave today.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s a problem for anyone,” Louis agrees, “I think we’re all itching to continue this.” They all nod, some more reluctantly than others.  
  
“Then we just need to ask Machina whether we can take our leave earlier than planned.” Roland says.  
  
“And you can,” Machina says, walking into their encampment. His automaton is different this time but Noé thinks he might prefer the bear. This one has just an eerily smiling mask for a face connected to a spine that descends into its robes, “I came in to check in on you two (his doll-like hands point at Vanitas and Noé). The Mirror has a bad habit of breaking people’s minds.”  
  
“It would have been nice if you’d told us that beforehand.” Noé says as one of Vanitas’ eyebrow twitches.  
  
“It must have slipped my mind,” Machina says in a tone that clearly indicates it hadn’t, “Your boats are ready. You can set off immediately. But firstly, I have brought gifts to aid you on your journey.” Marquis Machina’s automaton does a stiff gesture that is meant to be some sort of command and a group of eight small machines wheel over to them. Noé wonders where they were hiding before.  
  
One runs into his legs and stills; he panics, thinking he broke it but it backs away a bit and with tiny mechanical pincers, lifts a piece of cloth- the same subdued green as the trees around them- that rested on its flat back. The others do the same and Noé takes the cloth. It unfurls into a cloak adapted to his size with a silvery brooch encrusted with a single astermite stone.  
  
“We thank you for them but we already have our own.” Olivier says as he turns it in his hands.  
  
“I think you’ll find them to be better than the ones you currently have,” Machina answers, “The astermite will make the cloak change colours based on its surroundings; they’ll act as camouflage essentially.”  
  
“Well, when you put it like that…” Olivier’s voice trails off as they all unclasp their old cloaks and replace them with the new ones. A compartment opens from inside the machines and a third pincer hand takes out a different object for each of them.  
  
The Chasseurs all get a belt (silver for Olivier and gold for Astolfo and Roland) whilst Louis gets a new scabbard. Dante and Riche get new bolts and arrows with different feathers for different proprieties which Machina explains quickly. Vanitas receives a glass phial in which blue petals of a flower Noé doesn’t recognize float. Machina says something about it lighting up the darkest of places and Vanitas places it in a pouch at his belt with a noncommittal noise.  
  
Noé looks down at his gift; there are two. One is a long length of white rope that seems to glow when the light hits it at certain angles. The other is a smooth wooden box and when Noé opens it, he finds it is filled with earth and a single acorn.  
  
“The rope will be useful for your adventure,” Machina’s hand goes over his and makes him close the box, _“That_ is for when you go home, Carmilla told me to give you it.”  
  
“Thank you,” Noé nods, “I’ll make sure to take good care of it.” He’d mentioned he’s a gardener offhandedly to Carmilla once but she’s remembered. A pleasant, warm feeling bubbles in his chest.  
  
“I’ll be sure to tell her,” The automaton nods, “She went on patrol today. Now come, I’ll show you to your boats.” They gather their packs and follow.  


***

The moment Noé sees the three small boats bobbing in the water, he freezes up.  
  
“Is there a problem?” Roland asks him.  
  
“I can’t swim.” Noé says, staring intensely at the boats.  
  
“Well that’s not what we’re asking of you.” Astolfo nimbly gets in one of them, barely making it rock. He extends a hand and helps Riche on.  
  
“No-one knows how to swim in Averoigne, Noé.” Dante joins Riche but since no-one is helping him, he nearly falls off. Astolfo grabs onto his coat and Dante manages to regain his balance without making them capsize.  
  
“Come on Noé.” Louis waves a hand as he climbs into the second boat. Noé gingerly gets in and sits down just as cautiously, clutching the sides when the boat rocks. Vanitas joins them, his footsteps as light as a cat’s. Louis picks up an oar and passes it to Vanitas, not trusting Noé to do it.  
  
Olivier and Roland get in the third boat together, looking just at ease as Astolfo; perhaps it’s an obligatory course in the Chasseurs’ training.  
  
One of the machines unties the ropes keeping the boats close to the docks and they push away. Noé clutches his bag to his chest and keeps his eyes ahead, watching the scenery slowly shift ahead. Without meaning to, his gaze keeps shifting to the banks, hoping to catch a glance of Faustina’s soldiers. He knows it’s probably stupid but he can’t help himself and keeps watching, in hope of catching sight of a pair or blank eyes. That last thought on his mind, he accidentally dozes off.  


***

In Noé’s dream, Vanitas and he are looking into Machina’s mirror. Vanitas’ reflection is the only thing that appears but his eyes are empty and dull, any spark of life extinguished. When Vanitas steps away, the look has transferred itself to him. Noé finds himself backing away as Vanitas shifts his almost sightless gaze to him. He takes a slow step forwards like a puppet unused to its strings.  
  
The mist around the base of the mirror swirls stronger and faster, increasing in amount until it looms over Vanitas. A metallic clawed hand, the same as the one Charlatan’s leader wear, slides out of the mist and rests on his shoulder. The Book appears in Vanitas’ hand and flips open.  
  
“So that’s your true name.” Vanitas raises the Book, it shines and-  
  
His eyes snap open. He’s in the boat again and-he looks over his shoulder-Vanitas is still himself.  
  
“Sleep well?” Vanitas teases, a small sparkle of mirth in his voice. Noé nods and spends a moment to look at Vanitas’ eyes, “Are you trying to pick a fight?” Typical Vanitas.  
  
“No,” He says, “I’d never realised how much I like your eyes.” Vanitas pulls a strange face as if dissecting his compliment and not managing to find the insult he expected inside.  
  
“Could you two stop flirting? We’re drifting away!” Louis snaps and Vanitas starts oaring again with a strange splutter. Dante laughs as his boat overtakes theirs.  
  
“This isn’t a competition!” Olivier snaps from his boat ahead.  
  
“You’re only saying that because you’re in front!” Riche retorts, making Roland laugh.  
  
“Don’t get too excited! We’ll be stopping soon!” Olivier says and true to his words, they stop five minutes later.  


***

It’s a small stony beach and they make sure the boats are certain to not be taken away by the currents before settling down. Noé, feeling guilty because he fell asleep and didn’t row, volunteers to find firewood. Vanitas chooses to accompany him with a remark about him getting lost and Noé scowls. Roland watches them go, bickering good-naturedly, a bemused expression on his face.  
  
“Say, it’s been on my mind for a while but, how long have those two been married? Or at least together?” Dante feels his soul leave his body.  
  
“They’re not. They’re just-friends? I think we can say they’re friends,” Riche passes a hand through her hair, “But they’re definitely getting closer.”  
  
“Well,” Louis shrugs, “I’m willing to place a bet as to when they do.”  
  
“You say that as if Vanitas wouldn’t die before admitting his feelings to anyone.” Riche retorts. Louis nods in agreement but extends the offer again, placing his money on after the Book is destroyed. One after the other, some more reluctantly than others, the rest join in.  
  
“This plans to be an interesting bet.” Louis grins. 


	15. Louis

The next two days are the same routine: they continue down the river until the sun starts to set where they make camp on the bank. The third day, they stop mid-afternoon at a beach. Roland explains they’re near the Witch’s Temple, where rituals that worshipped witches as actual deities took place. So far they’ve seen none of Faustina’s men but they’re bound to meet at one moment or another; they can only try to stay ahead of the pack as long as they can.  
  
Noé is about to start a small fire to cook dinner (they tend to eat early) when he looks up and takes notice of where everyone is. Louis and Vanitas are missing. He frowns but assumes they told Olivier or someone else of their departure. He turns back to his fire and gets it quickly going.  


***

Vanitas wanders aimlessly through the forest, exploring on his own. A part of him wants to find the Witch’s Temple but he doesn’t know exactly where it is. If he remembers correctly, sitting on the stone throne will show you visions. But that’s just legend and if he’s being completely honest, he’s tired of visions.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” A voice says behind him and he whirls around, his daggers out. Louis leans away, one of the blades missing his neck by inches, “Careful.” He chides. With a sullen expression, Vanitas sheathes them.  
  
“Wood duty?” He raises an eyebrow at the small pile in Louis’ arms.  
  
“One can never have too much wood,” Vanitas picks up an adequate piece of wood and hands it to him, “Who’s No. 71?” A thin sheet of ice spreads through him and his heart stutters in his chest. Before he can stop himself, his face crumples into something raw and wounded and his limbs lock into place.  
  
“Where did you hear that?” _At least he doesn’t try to deny it,_ Louis thinks.  
  
“I heard Moreau say it one night in the mines,” Louis answers honestly. He’d heard Chloé (his mouth unconsciously twists at her name) and Vanitas talk about Moreau but unlike Noé, he knows how to hide his reactions. And he knows how to fake being asleep, even when Noé calls him, “So who’s 71?”  
  
“Misha is none of your business.” Vanitas spits but there’s no venom in his voice. His eyes widen upon realising he accidentally revealed more information; he really is unnerved.  
  
“He’s someone important to you,” Louis notes. Vanitas’ hands shake, “What became of him?”  
  
“I told you, all of Moreau’s projects died except for me.”  
  
“But you’re lying. You know what happened to him. I read in Moreau’s report that a shadow took him the day of the raid.” He picks up another stick. A shadow like Naenia maybe, whatever she is? Maybe Naenia herself?  
  
“Then why did you ask?” He doesn’t question how Louis got his hand on Moreau’s papers, too shaken up.  
  
“Curiosity. You talk about him like I would if I were trying to protect Domi.”  
  
He looks up. A cold sweat has emerged on Vanitas’ face; he looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up and Louis understands he’s correct. Vanitas sees this Misha as a younger sibling. Something in the back of his mind finds this idea familiar and he doesn’t know why.  
  
“Don’t worry, only Olivier knows about Misha and he won’t tell anyone. We should head back to camp,” He says, “Noé’s probably wondering where we are.” Mentioning Noé has his memory working and he remembers how in Altus, Noé told him of their encounters with Charlatan-both in Averoigne and the Archiviste Castle-and how the unsettling and unnamed leader called Vanitas ‘big brother’.  
  
Vanitas startles as Louis’ wood pile falls to the ground. Louis stares at him, eyes wide as he puts the puzzle together.  
  
“He’s Charlatan’s leader,” He says, horrified, “And you knew it. You’ve known from the start.”  
  
“Louis-” Vanitas’ interruption only serves to fuel his anger.  
  
“That’s why you volunteered to take the Book!” He accuses, his temper flaring white hot as he rants, “You don’t care about saving France! You want to help them! You’re going to give them the Book!” His fangs extend but he continues (though in a more subdued tone) even as they threaten to slice his lower lip open, “Orlok didn’t manage to expel all of Charlatan’s poison from your veins after all. I’m sorry Vanitas but-if the real you is still inside, you’ll understand what I’m about to do.” Louis unsheathes his sword and lunges. Vanitas jumps out of the way, the blade missing him by a few hairs.  
  
“Louis, wait-!” He ducks a new attack and realises Louis won’t listen to him. The Book’s twisting his mind and beliefs, making Vanitas the enemy. He has a moment of self-doubt-is Louis being manipulated by the Book or is Vanitas? Are they both corrupted?  
  
He reluctantly takes out his daggers. They’re glowing blue and he realises Louis has no intention of leaving him alive-death is the only salvation for Vanitas in his eyes.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t want to fight him. He might know how to fight but Louis’ a seasoned soldier as well as Captain of the Guards and a vampire; he has no chance of surviving on his own. He pulls out the Book between two dodges and turns invisible with a crackle of sparks.  
  
“You’re going to get us all killed!” Louis screams, his voice broken and filled with tears, as he drops his sword, knowing it’s useless to fight something he can’t see, “Why is Misha more important than any of us? What about Noé? What about the dhams? What about _Chloé?_ After all we’ve been through? You’re going to destroy us all!”  
  
Louis yells his name as he runs away as quickly as he can. Louis doesn’t hear him leave and so cries to the wind: “We should never have bothered with saving you from that avalanche!”  
  
He stumbles and falls, his head knocking sharply onto the ground. A small streak of blood trickles down from his temple and he lies still for a moment, stunned. His wound slowly closes and he lifts up his head, tears stinging his eyes.  
  
“What did I say? Vanitas? Vanitas!” He gets to his feet, wiping the tears away and taking up his sword, “Vanitas, _please,_ answer me!” He begs but his pleas are only heard by the trees.  


***

Olivier realises they’ve been found moments before they’re attacked. He only has time to throw his dinner to the ground before the first attacker surges out of the bushes. Vanitas’ description was accurate, he really is an empty shell of a human. Almost simultaneously, the Chasseurs throw their cutlery at him. Two forks bounce off the armour but Roland’s sinks into a gap at his neck and he doesn’t even pause. Olivier throws himself out of the way and grabs Hauteclaire. He’s about to run forwards and run Hauteclaire through the man when an arrow sinks into his stomach.  
  
“Get away!” Riche screams and Olivier throws himself backwards just in time for the arrow to explode, ripping him open from head to toe. Viscera and blood fall around what’s left of him in disorganised piles, some of it landing in Olivier’s hair. His appetite is, unsurprisingly, gone.  
  
“What was _that?”_ He asks her as other assailants attack them.  
  
“Enchanted arrows. Machina gave them to me!” She yells and nocks another. Olivier flicks the small switch on Hauteclaire’s hilt and the spikes start rotating.  
  
“Out of the way!” He says and charges.  


***

Vanitas keeps running, the image of Vanitas of the Blue Moon flitting in and out of his vision, reappearing a few metres ahead of him only for him to pass through her. He can’t hear Louis anymore but he keeps going. It’s like a switch has been flipped in his head and it’s permanently stuck on ‘flight’. His heart won’t stop hammering inside of his chest.  
  
He stumbles up some stone steps and finds himself at the top of the Witch’s Temple. With shaking hands, he rips out the bookmark from the Book and Vanitas of the Blue Moon, standing at the bottom of the stairs, disappears. He sighs and is about to sit on the stone throne when he remembers the rumours and decides not to take any more chances with visions. He sits on the edge, his legs dangling in the air. He keeps the Book at his side just in case Louis shows up.  
  
Should he go back to camp? What if Louis’ already there? Olivier knows about Misha (his stomach clenches) but he hasn’t made the connection between him and Charlatan. Or has he? He’s seen Misha and heard him speak. Is he also convinced that Vanitas is allied with the Blue Moon? Or will he understand that Louis’ mind is corrupted and that he’s moments away from becoming a curse bearer?  
  
Louis showed no clear sign of corruption until now, are the others like him too? Maybe not Dante and Riche but what about Noé? Roland and Astolfo? Are they still normal or will they turn on him the moment he gets back?  
  
He sighs. The best solution is to wait until night-time, sneak into camp (avoiding whoever is on watch) and steal one of the boats. He kicks his legs. He needs to continue alone.  
  
There’s movement in the trees ahead and he scuttles backwards behind one of the remaining statues. His cloak slowly shifts into the dusty grey colour of the stone as he slides the Book back into its case. He pulls out one of his daggers; its blade glows blue. Is it Louis? Or something else?  
  
Three men walk out, Faustina’s emblem clearly painted on their helmets. So they’ve finally caught up. Ever so cautiously, he unsheathes his second dagger.  
  
They get closer and he clutches his weapons tightly, his knuckles turning white. He has the element of surprise but they don’t have emotions anymore; would that work on them?  
  
Just as they’re about pass beneath him, he jumps off the edge and lands on the middle one’s shoulders, hooking a leg around his neck. The man is about to throw him off when he slits his throat. The second one grabs Vanitas by the cloak and flings him to the ground. He lands in a crouch and grins. Neither has taken out the swords hanging at their waists; they’ve recognised he’s from Averoigne. Doesn’t mean they won’t rough him up though.  
  
One of the remaining two lunges, his form blurring with the speed. Vanitas readies himself, bringing up his dagger to block the ensuing blow.  
  
The man slams to a stop, his claw-like fingers, almost a physical manifestation of Vanitas’ gloves, inches away from his face. A spearhead juts out from his throat and with a grunt, Astolfo severs his head from the rest of his body. Durandal cuts up the other into tiny little pieces.  
  
Olivier lags behind, applying athelas paste to a bloody cut on his forearm. A shadow emerges behind him. Vanitas throws his dagger at it and sprints. Olivier’s eyes widen as he ducks and Vanitas leaps over him, slashing at the experiment’s throat. Without a sound, the man falls to the ground.  
  
“You’re alive.” Roland says. There’s no trace of the friendly companion now, only the soldier remains.  
  
“Of course I am,” He says, scornful, just before bitterness swells, “Louis’ gone berserk. He thinks I’m the enemy.” He looks Olivier straight in the eyes as he says so.  
  
“We’ll take care of him. You need to go. _Now.”_ He orders, not even flinching at the implications.  
  
“Just the three of you?” Why is he asking that? He’s decided to leave, why is he saying that as if he wants to stay? Since when does he care?  
  
“We’re paladins!” Astolfo crows, a triumphant grin spreading on his lips. It’s not an expression Vanitas is used to seeing on him but it doesn’t look bad. He finds himself grinning back. Maybe, just maybe, being an optimist won’t hurt him, “Now go! Kill some vampires for me!”  
  
He nods and disappears into the woods. The Chasseurs watch him go for a few moments then run in the other direction, squaring up for another fight.  


***

Louis’ throat burns with thirst and he almost doubles over with the pain that courses through him. He gasps for air. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s not addicted to blood so what’s happening? Is this a result of the Book twisting his mind? Or is it-something else?  
  
A shadowy figure passes through the woods. Is it Naenia? Then that means Chloé’s sacrifice did nothing and that Faustina’s men are here. The thought of the evil spirit makes his fangs extend again, poking at his lower lip. He hates her, hates her with every fibre of his being. He’s always thought she was a hallucination, a fictitious component of his mind fuelled by his fear of being a curse bearer. Something he’d invented during his childhood as he waited for death. But she’s real. Too real.  
  
_“Prophetic dreams,” Orlok answers with gravity, looking him straight in the eye, “Have always been a tendency in your family. Your grandfather had his fair share in his youth.”_  
  
_“Noé, he had me convinced I was a curse bearer for months! I was carving stakes as a hobby because it reassured me that I could be killed if I turned!” He yells._  
  
_“As for the thing I cherish most, well, I’d be rather upset if I lost my rationality.” He jokes wryly._  
  
“No…Not like this,” His voice shakes as he brings his hands to his mouth. His throat is dry and he swallows with difficulty. His fangs poke at his lips, “Not like _this.”_ Is it true? Had Grandfather seen him become a curse bearer all those years ago? Is that why he’d done that? Is this how it ends for him?  
  
_“Hello, Louis,”_ A voice sings in his ears. Naenia. Hands pass through his hair in tender motions,_ “You have a wish to make, don’t you? I can grant it for you…”_ She continues. Flowing tresses of hair tickle his face.  
  
_“No.”_  
  
_“Come now, Louis,”_ She chides, as if to a petulant child, _“All I ask for is your name. Won’t you give me it? You’ll be able to save your friends that way.”_  
  
“Shut up!” He roars and slams his clenched fist into the nearest tree with as much strength as he can summon. The biting jolt of pain that follows jerks him back to reality and Naenia disappears like a wisp of smoke. His hand throbs when he moves it and he restrains himself from cursing profusely, he must have broken it.  
  
His throat burns with thirst and he doubles over, hacking and coughing. His vision blurs and-since when were his fingers claws? He doesn’t remember.  
  
“Louis?” His eyes snap to Noé, dishevelled, frightened and suddenly looking very young as he appears from the direction of their camp, “Are you alright?” He reaches forwards but Louis slaps his hand away with his non-injured one. He glances down, there are no claws.  
  
“Don’t.” He warns, breath ragged.  
  
Blood. He wants blood. Needs it. Noé’s collar is slightly opened. He just has to lean forwards and-No, he can’t.  
  
“You’re looking for Vanitas, right?” At the name, his fangs extend a little more. With his thirst, his other senses have heightened and Vanitas’ scent hangs in the air like a sickeningly sweet perfume. He vaguely wonders how Noé has managed resisting drinking his blood for so long when it smells this good. He moves his broken hand to focus, “He went back to the beach. If you want to catch him, you’ll have to go now.” He can at least do this to help.  
  
“But Louis-”  
  
_“Go._ I can take care of myself. He can’t. Not without you at least.” They nod at each other and are just about to part ways when he glances over his shoulder, “Oh, and Noé? Tell him I’m sorry.” Noé frown but nods again. His silhouette is the last thing Louis ever sees of him.  


***

Vanitas swings his bag onto a boat and pushes it away from the shore. He grits his teeth as the ice cold water seeps into his boots and climbs inside of it. It rocks and he grips the sides until it calms down. He grabs the oars and slowly starts rowing away.  
  
_I only have myself to count on,_ he tries to persuade himself, ignoring the anxiety gnawing at his mind, _It’s always been like that and it always will._  
  
“Vanitas!” He looks up to see Noé running down the beach, panic written on his face, “Wait!”  
  
“Go away Noé!” He yells, “I don’t need you anymore!”  
  
“Chloé,” He answers as he grabs his bag and wades in, “Said I had to protect you!”  
  
“Chloé’s dead! You don’t need to listen to her anymore!” The words tear themselves out of his throat, “So stop following me!”  
  
“I’m not following you,” He hefts his bag over his head in order to keep it dry, “I’m _going_ with you!” He takes another step forwards and disappears underneath the surface.  
  
“Noé!” Vanitas screams.  


***

The water closes over Noé’s head and rushes up his nose. He chokes and opens his mouth, his air bubbles flying away from him. Water fills his lungs and he claws at his throat. He tries to regain his footing but the slope, the cause of his fall, is too steep and he only continues to sink. He tries kicking his legs but his bag is dragging him and his movements are too sluggish for him to get it off. Cold seeps through his skin and settles in his bones.  
  
Something closes over his collar and pulls him up. He breaks the surface, coughing water and gasping for air, and grabs the side of the boat. It rocks at his weight but doesn’t capsize.  
  
The moment he feels some semblance of normal again, he opens his eyes and pulls his soaked bag on the boat. Vanitas is staring at him, frowning in annoyance. He’s soaked from head to waist, having leaned into the water to pull him up.  
  
_“You,”_ Vanitas starts, “Were incredibly stupid. I could have died saving you! You could have _died!”_ Noé hefts himself onto the boat, almost tipping it over, and passes a hand through his hair, moving it out of his eyes.  
  
“But I didn’t,” He answers calmly which only irks Vanitas more, “And now I’m here. We’re going together.”  
  
“…Fine.” Vanitas turns away and takes up one of the oars. Noé imitates him and they set off in a tense silence.  
  
“…Louis says he’s sorry.” Vanitas doesn’t reply. 


	16. The Only Heir

Riche doesn’t understand what’s happening. Eating dinner-fine. Getting attacked by Faustina’s army?-great. Using up all of her arrows and Dante using all of his crossbow bolts?-sure, why not? Chasing after Noé who’d taken off on his own, losing track of him of then and then the Chasseurs?- perfect, she couldn’t ask more of her day. Going to hide with Dante?-alright, let’s do it. _That,_ she understands. After, though? That’s a whole other matter.  
  
They’d both been hiding behind a large tree, bushes mostly covering them. There was no point in trying to help the others; they were weaker than them and no matter how friendly the Fellowship were, the dham ideology of only taking care of other dhams was firmly ingrained in their minds.  
  
Then Vanitas had arrived, stumbling down the hill before lunging behind a tree a few feet from the left of theirs. Riche had looked up to where he’d come from; he was being followed by Faustina’s men. Dante and he had made eye contact and Dante had waved him over discreetly. Vanitas had shaken his head and they’d understood. He wasn’t coming with them.  
  
Dante and Riche had looked at each other and nodded. As one, they'd walked out from their hiding spot and started jumping and down, yelling. Mostly insults. They had gotten the men’s attention and immediately bolted in the direction opposite from the boats, ensuring Vanitas an escape. Needless to say, ‘only help dhams’ wasn’t as firmly ingrained as they thought.  
  
So now they run through the forest, zigzagging through the trees. Riche looks over her shoulder and yelps; the enemy’s gaining ground and they’re both running out of stamina. Any moment soon, they’ll have to stop and use their swords. If only they’d had more lessons with Louis-  
  
Said vampire shoots out from the trees to her left seconds later. He looks-_feral._ His fangs are fully out, his eyes carmine red. He emits a guttural howl and skewers his enemies in less time than it takes to blink. Blood splatters his clothes and face and he licks absentmindedly at some on his lips. He straightens, looking more like the Louis they know.  
  
“Are you two alright?” He asks and they nod, frozen in place.  
  
“What about you?” She asks. There’s movement around them as more blank-faced men gather. How many did Faustina send?  
  
“Never felt better,” He jokes in his usual wry tone. She blinks. Are his fingernails always this sharp or is she dreaming? “Stay back you two,” He warns as he steps forwards. His sword drips with blood, almost as if he’s conducting a ritual or making some sort of sacrifice to an ancient god. Then he says something strange that chills her to the core: “Naenia, grant my wish!”  


***

The first arrow pierces Louis’ side and he doesn’t even flinch, continuing to mow down his enemies in a blind fury.  
  
“Don’t…touch them!” He roars, his voice distorted, and the trees shake. His deformed, clawed hand is covered in blood.  
  
The second arrow lands, burying itself in his gut and he falters.  
  
“I said…I’d protect them!” His sword and claws fall down one after the other like a well-oiled machine but the flow of enemies is never-ending. He starts to say again: “Naenia, grant my wi-”  
  
The third arrow hits him square in the chest and he stops. A thin trickle of blood trails down the side of his mouth. He crumples.  
  
He’s aware of Dante and Riche running towards him, screaming at the top of their lungs in a desperate rush. He’s aware of how they pull at his clothes, turning him onto his back. He’s aware of how they struggle as Faustina’s men pick them up effortlessly and carry them away.  
  
But he can only focus on her. _Naenia._  
  
_“You wanted to protect them and so I gave you strength,”_ Her lips twist back into a chilling smile, _“Too bad you failed.”_  


***

Olivier knows something is wrong the moment they stop encountering enemies. Up until then, there’s been a steady stream of them, a new corpse to leave behind every few steps. And if there are no more now, that means they’ve been wiped out or-they’ve found something else of interest.  
  
That means they might have found the dhams, Noé or Vanitas. Which means they might have found the Book. A lead weight sinks into his stomach. No, Vanitas is smarter than them, he’s probably made his way to the boats.  
  
The Chasseurs run through the forest, following the tracks left by Faustina’s men. Unfortunately for her, she’s made their minds too primitive to take the initiative of covering their tracks. She must have believed the Fellowship would be killed immediately. A shame for her.  
  
Roland is the first one to see Louis, head propped against a tree trunk as he breathes sharply through gritted teeth, his clothes stained with blood.  
  
“Louis!” Olivier cries and falls to his knees besides him. It’s obvious he won’t make it. The arrows are still stuck inside of him. Taking them out would risk damaging more organs and speeding up the haemorrhage but leaving them will let him bleed out. His healing is too slow even if they give him blood. Judging from his face, he already knows this.  
  
“They took the cousins,” Louis grips at Olivier’s sleeve, his breath ragged, “They took them. I failed.”  
  
“You didn’t fail anything, Louis.” There’s a lump in Olivier’s throat that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries.  
  
“I almost took the Book and now he’s gone.”  
  
“We know. Vanitas will be fine.”  
  
“Of course he will. He has Noé,” Louis smiles wryly one last time. His face flashes with pain and he makes a hacking sound. His grip tightens, _“You_ have to find the cousins.”  
  
“We will.” Olivier promises and Louis’ grip softens slightly.  
  
“I’m sorry for doubting you. All three of you. I thought you rash and stupid but I’ve learnt- you’re good people,” His eyes find Olivier’s, “I would have followed you anywhere,” The more death approaches, the more he rambles, as if talking will prolong the inevitable, “The riddle. I’ve finally figured it all out,” He tries to sit up and fails. His voice becomes frail and urgent, “Tell Domi that I-that I-” Louis stops talking mid-sentence and he stills completely, his eyes going glassy.  
  
Ever so slowly, Olivier sets his lifeless body on the ground, closing his eyes. And ever so slowly, starting from the heart, his body turns grey and falls into pieces, a simple pile of ash that is quickly blown apart by the wind, leaving only empty clothes and his sword.  
  
“I will,” Olivier promises, “I will.” He gets up and takes Louis’ belt. He ties it around his waist and sheathes the vampire’s sword inside of it.  
  
“To the Parade.” He says and the others nod. They all pull out a handful of athelas, chew it and set off. Some of the dust that swirls in the air above them, lifted by the warm wind, follows them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a double update as there's just the epilogue left so keep going!


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted as a double update so be careful and check you haven't missed the chapter just before!

Dominique wakes up in her room in the Beastia’s Tower, tear streaming down her face. _Something has happened something has happened SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED,_ her mind and heart scream at her. But what?  
  
Veronica, she needs to see her sister. She slips out of her room into the dimly lit corridor.  
  
Something in her gut tells her her dream was about Louis but she doesn’t understand what. The tears are starting to dry but the feeling of having something ripped out of her chest lingers.  
  
The last news she’s gotten about her brother have, ironically enough, been from Grandfather. His letter’s only content was something about prophetic dreams and that Louis was leaving on that insane quest to destroy the Book.  
  
She reaches Veronica’s door and knocks. No answer.  
  
“Veronica?” Still nothing. She tries the handle and the door swings open. The difference in temperature between the corridor and her sister’s room leaves her shivering; Veronica’s always loved the cold. In most of Dominique’s memories involving her, she’s the most alive in cold environments.  
  
Veronica’s double balcony doors are open, the curtains batting wildly in the wind. Veronica’s hands grip the railing tightly. Her hair, made blue by the dim light emanating from the Land of the Blue Moon far aware, shrouds her face.  
  
“Veronica?” She asks and gasps when her sister lifts her head to look at her. Her cross-shaped pupils are drowned behind tears that also streak down her face. In all of her memories, she has never seen Veronica cry. Seeing her like this has Dominique torn from the inside, ready to join her again.  
  
“Those blasted dreams,” Veronica snarls, wiping at her eyes, “I wanted to experience one but never like _this.”_ As harsh and biting as she tries to make her tone, it remains wet and fragile.  
  
“What-what was it? I can’t remember it.”  
  
“Of course you can’t,” Something meant to be a laugh but sounding a lot more like a sob breaks out of her mouth, “You were always closer to Louis than I was-you must have tried to repress it.”  
  
“What are you going on about?”  
  
“Louis is _dead,_ Domi!” Her voice rises to a shrill shriek and she remains panting as grief and realisation sink their claws into Dominique and tear her apart. Veronica glides past her, her face now icy, “Get a hold of yourself,” She orders, “We have a war to prepare for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first one! Thank you for reading!  
I'll be taking a little break in order to work on the second one but I'll be back soon.


End file.
